Log Entries: The Personal Logs of B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer
by jamelia116
Summary: Excerpts from the logs of Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres, exploring her feelings about events occurring during the first through fifth years of Voyager's journey through the Delta Quadrant. P/T (Codas for episodes from the premiere episode "The Caretaker" through "Thirty Days," originally published on the "ASC" newsgroup as 3 separate stories, in 1997, 1998, and 1999)
1. Log Entries (1)

**Note: **In some of the entries in these logs, B'Elanna mentions details about a relationship which had once existed between Ro Laren, a character who appeared on several episodes of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_, and Tom while both were in the Maquis. No, you didn't miss an episode. This references another story I have written, called "The Mercenary," a version of which is available on this site.

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**Log Entries: The B'Elanna Torres Logs **

**(Personal Logs of _Voyager's_ Chief Engineer's Personal Logs)**

**by J. A. Toner (a.k.a. Jamelia)**

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**_Personal Log, B'Elanna Torres, Stardate 48324.2_**

I cannot believe I'm making an entry in a personal log on a Starfleet vessel. In the Delta Quadrant, yet. This must be a nightmare.

Actually, I should be happy I'm alive, I suppose. If I'd been trapped on that Ocampa world much longer, I would've died of that illness the "Caretaker" had so kindly given Starfleet and me.

I just checked over the logs from the _Zola,_ and at least we got them all. We were able to access and transfer them just before Chakotay crashed the ship into the array that dragged us here. We didn't have much time for personal effects, though. I threw a few things into a sack and then it was into the transporter, over to _Voyager_. Fortunately, we were able to get Chakotay safely transported over, too. I would never admit to being frightened for him, of course, but I was. Apart from Seska, he's my best friend here. Ayala, Larson, Jonas, Suder, Gerron, and a bunch of others are safe, too. So is Tuvok, the spy, unfortunately. Too bad he's okay, when so many from the _Zola _didn't make it.

A lot of _Voyager's _crew didn't make it, either, so I guess it made sense for Captain Janeway to offer us a chance to "replace" the missing. With the _Zola _reduced to space dust, what else were we supposed to do, join up with the Kazon? Chakotay is eager to go along with this crazy idea, of course; he gets to be Commander Chakotay again. But the rest of the Maquis becoming officers and crew of a Starfleet starship? Stuck out here - what choice do we have? At least I can't hear my mother's reaction. She always told me that I should stay home, on Qo'noS - not that it was ever home to me. I never lived there long enough to call that place home. Kessik IV, sad to say, is as close to a home as I'll ever have.

I'm glad that Starfleet made it, though. Harry Kim, I mean. Starfleet's my nickname for him. He's okay, even if he is as green as Vulcan blood. He's smart and a quick study; I could tell that when we were both stranded with the Ocampa. Friendly, like a puppy in a way. Dark eyes. Handsome, if you like them young. Really, really young. He's the normal age for graduating from the Academy, but he's really seen so little of life yet that I feel like his older sister. A much older sister, even though he's only two years younger than me! This is his first big adventure, and it's likely to last his entire lifetime.

I hope he grows up in a hurry, because I think he's going to need to, out here. And he's going to have to pick his friends a little more carefully, that's for sure. Being friends with that traitor Tom Paris is a good way to get yourself killed. It's funny though, Harry said that Paris told him almost the same thing! "Better stay away from me, Harry. I'm not a good luck charm." Something like that.

Thomas Eugene Paris. I finally got to meet him. I would never have thought that Ro Laren would have been head over heels with this man. Oh, he's good looking enough, sure. Knows it, too. Admiral's son. Golden Boy gone bad. Cocky. A hot shot pilot. I hate to admit it, but it seems like he may be as good as he thinks he is at the conn. And a womanizer and a drunk, too, although I haven't seen him get drunk yet. Seska says it's only a matter of time before he shows his true colors and starts to drink himself into oblivion. But a flirt, oh, yes! He's already been drooling over everyone on board _Voyager _that doesn't have any Y chromosomes. For all I know, he's been drooling over the ones that do, too. I just haven't caught him at it yet.

When he started eyeing me, I told him that if he tried anything, he'd be looking for his balls in the Gamma Quadrant. The jerk laughed in my face.

Now, maybe I should back off here a little, despite what Seska says. She and Chakotay were both sure that Paris was a spy and a traitor when he was in the Maquis. Seska still says that he's undercover, even out here, but I don't think I can buy that. Why out here? And he really went to prison when he got caught in _The Eye of the Prophet_. Chakotay told me today that he looked up his record as soon as Janeway made him first officer. She had to get him out of a prison on Earth, someplace in the southern hemisphere, and he's not totally free, either. He's in Janeway's custody. Apparently Paris didn't tell them much about us, either. He was leading them back to Malagra, which the Maquis abandoned when he was captured. He had to have known we wouldn't have been there any longer.

That last day when she was crying over losing him, Ro told me he was for real, that he wasn't a traitor to the Maquis. She was in love with him, of course; but still, Ro's judgment in everything else but Paris was always so good. I liked Ro. She was never afraid to treat the Klingon like anyone else. She was as tough as duranium when she had to be, but Ro seemed to care about what happened to all of us. I wish she hadn't gone back to Bajor after this Paris was captured. If she had stuck around with our cell, she would have gotten her barfly mercenary boyfriend back. And out here, at least, Ro wouldn't have had to pay off all his bar tabs. I still can't understand why she did that.

Wait. Maybe I need to do this part over, because, well - never mind. I'll just add this. He _did _save Harry and me in the tunnels. I thought he was pretty nice then, when I didn't know who he was yet. And then he even went back for Chakotay. Knowing what I know now, I would've thought that he would have let Chakotay rot down there. Paris may have had an ulterior motive - but no, why would he? He didn't know then that Janeway would invite us all to be part of the crew, so I guess he couldn't have known that he would be needing Chakotay to protect him from the rest of the Maquis.

And from the Starfleet personnel, too. The man is hated, that's for sure.

Harry follows him around, though. Mr. Lovesick-for-His-Girlfriend-at-Home and Wild Paris. What a pair. I had better take Starfleet under my wing before he gets into trouble with the flyboy pilot. Even Paris himself is warning him off . The sooner Harry realizes that Paris is nothing but bad news, the better off he will be.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48441.7_**

Chief Engineer. That certainly sounds good. I know I'm up to it, of course, but it does feel strange to think that I am the chief engineer of a Starfleet vessel. That was a dream I had given up so long ago, it isn't funny. And now it's happened, thanks to the Cardassians chasing us into the Badlands. Getting marooned over seventy years away from the Alpha Quadrant turned out to be a good career move.

Hey, Mom. I'm a success. Of course, you'll probably never know. Even if we get back, I expect you'll be so mad that I'm in Starfleet after all that we won't be speaking. What else is new?

Janeway is pretty intimidating. I'm thinking what she really wants is for me to screw this up, so she can name her own engineer without the Maquis bitching about it. Probably that idiot Carey. I refuse to give her the satisfaction. She's willing to pitch in and help, though. Hogan says that she expected to be a science officer and didn't go into command until later. We'll have to see if we can get along. She _did_ forgive me for breaking Carey's nose, so I guess she isn't as stiff as those Academy professors were.

I owe Chakotay a lot for this. I have to be good, because I can't let him down.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48546.8_**

The pig! I can't believe what he's done! That program is absolutely ridiculous. A pool hall, of all things. No, a pool hall and a bar! Janeway shouldn't allow it. And those holocharacters - slime! All of them! A gigolo! And Gaunt Gary - what a fitting companion for Thomas Paris! But worst of all is that babe that drapes herself all over the pilot. Disgusting.

He may have a way with holographic characters, but what a waste of his talent, if all he can come up with is a hangout like that!

I will say that a lot of the crew seemed to have a good time in Sandrine's. But the best part of the evening for me was seeing the look on Paris' face when I told him that his holodeck character was a pig, and so was he!

Seska is right about him, I can see that now. A womanizing drunk. That's Paris. What you see is what you get.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48664.3_**

I can't believe it. A Cardassian. Seska, my confidante, is really a Cardassian. I trusted that woman! The best friend I ever had, man or woman, and she turns out to be a Cardassian agent, genetically altered to look like a Bajoran.

Chakotay and she were lovers for how long? He never even guessed. First Tuvok, and now Seska. I'm not sure I'm happy that Chakotay trusts me right now. His ability to judge character seems so flawed to me now, especially after that stunt we pulled on Sikaris. We should never have tried to circumvent the Sikarian version of the Prime Directive to get the folded-space technology to travel faster across the galaxy. Janeway was disappointed in all of us, and I was really ashamed of myself. She gave me a chance, gave me her trust, and look how I've repaid her!

Even Paris hasn't pulled anything quite like this. What's next? Finding out that Paris is somebody you can actually trust?

Ro thought that you could trust Paris, and I doubted her. But Ro also said to me, more than once, "Watch your back around Seska, Torres. She's a snake, and she'll betray you someday." A snake. Bull's-eye. You were right, Ro, even more than you ever guessed, I'll bet. Maybe she's right about Paris, too, and we can trust him.

But he's still a pig.

Now, who can I talk to? Harry is okay, but there are some things I just can't talk to a man about. I can't burden Janeway, she's really too busy for that. Kes is nice, but she is just too - I don't know - old! She isn't even two years old yet, but I can't talk to her about the kind of things I used to discuss with Seska. Nicoletti is nice, but she's my subordinate. I can't risk muddying our working relationship by getting too close. I could be accused of losing my objectivity. I guess I should be grateful to Seska for teaching me that, at least.

I guess I will have to unburden myself to you, my discreet personal log.

So, good night, Personal Log. Sleep tight.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48791.1_**

They're coming back. My forehead ridges. I can feel them. Soon I'll have them again, as big as they ever were. The Doctor let the genes for building the ridges switch on again. He never bothered to ask me what I wanted. I felt so friggin' angry at him when I realized what he'd done. A doctor's bedside manner - he hasn't got one, yet. Kes keeps trying, let me credit for the effort, but his personality matrix really needs some work.

Anyway, it was nice to look human for a while, at least. But I do feel a lot better, not sick anymore, with most of my Klingon genes back in my body the way they always were. Well, almost the way they were. Now I have mixed human and Klingon genes in a human chromosomal pattern, instead of human and Klingon genes in a Klingon matrix. I feel like I always did, though. Strong. The Klingon is back. For good or ill.

It would've been nice to have kept the smooth forehead, though.

I'll be cleared for duty again, probably tomorrow. It's certainly good to be out of Sickbay, finally. Chakotay came every day to see me. So did Harry and the Captain.

And Tom.

I was listening to a couple of my earlier log entries tonight just before starting this one. If you could amend or delete something from a log after saying the magic words of 'end personal . . . etc.', I think I would do it in a few cases. I was pretty hard on the pilot in the beginning, calling him a womanizer, a traitor, and worse. I swallowed Seska's line, just like Chakotay did.

And then Seska turned out to be the traitor.

When we were captured by the Vidiians and my human half was forced to fend for herself, I couldn't believe this was the same man I've been ridiculing. He really came through in the caverns: cheering me up when I needed it, protecting me from the Vidiians when I was too sick to do it myself, trying to stand up for poor Durst. He listened to me tell him how scared I was and wasn't disgusted. Instead, Tom told me that having fear didn't mean a person was a coward. Fear helps you avoid taking foolish chances. Bravery is doing what needs to be done _despite_ being afraid. I never once saw the Tom Paris who acts like a pig there, just a good friend.

When the Vidiians took Pete Durst, Tom wanted to go in Durst's place, even though we all knew that Durst was probably going to organ processing to be killed. Tom was still willing to go himself. And of course, Durst was killed. That could have been Tom's face grafted onto that mad doctor's.

I don't know, just when I was sure I had Tom all figured out, he goes and acts like some kind of damned hero.

When Chakotay rescued us, and my Klingon half was dying, Tom stayed right with us while we tried to get help for her. After she died, he was with me in Sickbay until Chakotay was able to get there. None of his usual empty chatter, either. Tom just stood there by the biobed, holding my hand, until the captain called him away for debriefing. After he told Captain Janeway what he knew, he rushed back to check on me, joking that the Doctor was going to have to poke at him anyway, so he might as well stick around.

Tom hates being in Sickbay more than I do.

The entire time I was being treated, Tom came back a couple of times a day to see how I was doing (and I'll just bet his girlfriend Megan Delaney loves _that_). At first I thought he was comforting me just because I was human looking. Even though I've changed back to the old B'Elanna, never once have I seen that look I always catch in the eyes of men when I know they're thinking how ugly I am. Tom's given me the same kind of pep talks he did in the caverns, too. Not so much over the last couple of days. He can see I'm more myself now. He just comes and jokes around, like I was his good buddy Harry.

I never understood his jokes before, but now I'm starting to. And I'm beginning to see why he and Harry have become such close friends. Tom really isn't a bad guy, once you get past his skirt chasing.

And about that. I guess that his relationship with Megan is showing me that his reputation for that may not be entirely deserved, either. They've been together for three months now. For as long as he's been with her, there hasn't been anyone else. I would never have guessed he could be faithful to anyone for more than a week.

Not that I would be interested in him myself, of course. I mean, he isn't exactly my type. I like them well-muscled and lively. Fun to bat around, and fun to leave in a maimed, quivering heap after I'm done with them!

Guess my Klingon side really is back.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49368.8_**

I can't believe he's dead. It all went perfectly. He broke the Warp 10 barrier. What happened to him? How can this be?

The captain said that before the flight, the Doctor had some concerns about an irregularity in his brain. Harry almost took his place, but that wasn't what killed him. We still don't know what did it, except that it had to have been due to the transwarp flight.

After Harry and I downloaded the logs and examined them, the proof was there. Infinite speed and infinite velocity. Thomas Eugene Paris had been everywhere in the universe at once. The only reason our sensor logs had limited data was the computer's inability to absorb it all. We obtained scads of information about the sector surrounding our immediate position before the computer ran out of memory. Stellar Cartography is still in paroxysms of joy about what was recorded, however.

And Tom, Mr. Hot Shot Pilot, who was certainly entitled to preen a bit, turned out to be a very modest hero who immediately wanted to start to work on the next phase of the project. That's what we were doing in the mess hall when it started.

Tom and I had just agreed that the next step would be to repeat the experiment, confirming our data before even thinking about trying to fit _Voyager _for a return to the Alpha Quadrant. Neelix offered him some special "new blend" he had named for Tom. Now, considering some of Neelix's concoctions, neither one of us was too enthused, but I didn't think it tasted that bad, actually. Tom did. Then he began to get ill.

By the time Tom had landed on the floor, his face already marked by pulsing blue veins, he was in tremendous pain. I was in a panic to get him to Sickbay quickly, but the molecules of his body were in such flux, the Transporter Room couldn't even get a lock on him for an emergency transport. I stayed with him until the emergency team came. I wasn't about to let him go alone to Sickbay, to the Doctor. I stayed with Tom while the Doctor examined him.

Well, he did it for me after the Vidiians split me, it was only right I should stay with him.

But how could he possibly have become allergic to _water_, of all things!

I wanted to stay. I stroked his hair, touched him on the shoulder, let him know that I was there. He was scared, I could see it in his eyes. That usually turns me off completely, but to tell the truth, I was pretty scared for him myself. I never saw anyone transformed that way, right before my eyes. Even with the Vidiians, at least I wasn't awake when they ripped my chromosomes apart. Tom was changing rapidly into some unknown thing. I can't even imagine what that must have felt like.

I should have stayed. But the Doctor insisted he needed me to get more information in order to treat him, so I left.

If I'd known Tom would be dead so quickly, I would have stayed.

When the Doctor informed me over the comm the data wouldn't be needed immediately because of "Mr. Paris' demise," I had to sit down because my knees were giving way. I actually got tears in my eyes. Weak, I know, but I couldn't help it. Just when Tom and I were starting to respect one another. Learning how well we could work together. Now he's gone.

I went back to Sickbay. Megan Delaney was there, crying. Captain Janeway was comforting her. Harry was there, too, looking stunned. Kes came over and told me that his last request had been for her to kiss him, because he knew he was going to die, and that he wanted lots of pretty girls to cry over him. Then the Doctor chimed in with Mr. Paris' last words: Tom didn't trust people who didn't cry, and Torres never cried. Tom didn't have time to say much else before he was dead.

I make somebody's last words, and they're about how he couldn't trust me because I didn't cry. Thanks _so _much, Doctor, for sharing that with me.

At the time, though, I didn't think about that at all. I was too upset; I admit it. Harry came over to me as if to give me a hug, but I walked away from him. I found myself next to the biobed, looking down at Tom's face. Those eyes, the color of my warp core. I am never going to see them laughing at me again.

I bent down and kissed him, even though I'm not sure that Tom would consider me pretty. When I straightened up, I realized that a tear or two had dropped upon his face.

It was too late for him to notice, now.

_End personal log._

_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49369.5_

I don't know when I'll be able to get out of Engineering again. Everything is still in an uproar. Paris, resurrected from the dead and turned into some monstrous creature, has abducted the captain. I can't believe I was crying over his body yesterday! Chakotay is instituting a search, but whether or not we'll get them back before Tom is gone forever, turned into whatever it was that he was evolving into, I don't know.

And he went to transwarp, too, with the Captain in the shuttle. I don't even want to think about it.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49391.1_**

We've got them back. The Doctor's treatment worked - just in time for Tom, I understand. A few more hours, and there might not have been enough of Tom's own DNA left to get him back to being human.

Their "offspring" were left behind. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Maybe they were lizards, but what if they had enough of the right kind of DNA to be turned into human form? Chakotay and Tuvok made the call they thought that they had to, but I don't think it's the one I would have made. I'm afraid to ask Tom or Captain Janeway what they would have done themselves. The captain doesn't have time to be a mother, I don't think. And Tom, he sure isn't the fatherly type!

Still, I feel funny about it all. The decision to leave young ones that had just been born alone like that, even if they were lizards. I don't know, it just seems so cold.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49485.2_**

When Tom died, I didn't get to say good-bye. I wouldn't say good-bye this time.

He's been acting so strangely the past several weeks. It's like the last year never happened. Tom had changed, really growing into that hero role he seemed to covet. Helping me when the Vidiians split me, rushing in to save me from those murderous robots, doing the commando bit when Janeway, Tuvok and I were stuck on the Mokra homeworld - and that was just when I was involved in the action. Even when he broke warp 10, Tom wasn't at all stuck up. Maybe the Doctor _didn't_ get all his DNA back when he thought he did, because since then, Tom's been insubordinate and annoying, that obnoxious Paris that I hated when we first came on board. He even got himself put in the brig for shoving Chakotay around on the bridge. In other words, a pig.

I kept hoping that he would come around. When we were trying to stop Dreadnought, I even tried to talk some sense into him. He just said that he envied how I'd learned to fit in, because he hadn't expected me to. I thought Tom had been fitting in, too. But he said he hadn't, not really.

I guess Megan Delaney's finally breaking off their on-again, off-again relationship for good didn't help his mood any. Still, I couldn't believe it when I heard he was leaving _Voyager _to work on a Talaxian ship.

I saw him in the mess hall last night. Harry and I tried to talk him out of it. He just said it was time to move on because no one on _Voyager _gave a damn about him. I admit, I lost it then and made a scene, yelling at him that lots of people cared about him, and if he didn't see that, then he really was an ungrateful bastard and should go. He looked as if I had punched him in the gut. He didn't say anything. Just sat there, biting his lower lip, without the courage to look me in the face. I had to leave then so he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes. I wasn't _about _to give him the satisfaction!

When Tom left _Voyager_, only Neelix, Kes, and Harry were there to say good-bye, I understand. I was so angry then, I wouldn't even consider going.

But now, I feel so empty. Why do I feel this way? Why couldn't the jerk understand what he meant to _Voyager? _To all of the crew, and to Janeway, Neelix, Kes, Harry, and me. I just don't . . . I can't . . . I . . . oh Kahless, I can't go on with this now.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49488.2_**

He's back. Again. And it was all a ploy to flush out a spy. Michael Jonas. My engineer, ex-Maquis Michael Jonas, was feeding information to that bloodsucker Seska. I'm glad Jonas is dead, because I would've gotten myself thrown in the brig for strangling him myself if he wasn't. And Neelix is the hero! Along with Tom Paris. Again.

Cats, aren't they supposed to have nine lives? I wonder, how many lives has Tomcat Paris used up so far?

After he gave his talk on "A Briefing with Neelix," apologizing to Chakotay openly, Tom came down to Engineering and asked to speak to me privately. He told me he was sorry he had hurt Harry and me when we were trying to talk him out of going to the Talaxian convoy in the mess hall, but he had to do it. He was under the captain's orders. I told him his apology was accepted, but I was brusque with him. Dismissive. I am still so angry at him. I had gotten all upset and emotional over nothing!

He could've told me. I would've kept my mouth shut. If only he trusted me. He should've known I could keep his secret.

I am glad he's back, though, even if it meant he did that hero thing again. He's going to get himself killed someday doing that.

_End personal log._

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**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50035.8_**

I've barely had a chance to make my official log entries, let alone any personal entries, with all of the work I've had to do repairing the damage to the ship from the Kazon's sojourn on _Voyager_. And Seska's. My late, very much unlamented former friend. I'm sorry her son is going to grow up without a mother, but I'm glad Chakotay isn't the father of her child after all. He wanted to raise him when he thought the boy was his son, but how would the child have fared on this ship? With his mother instrumental in marooning the crew the way she did? After the way we lost poor Hogan? Well, I'm just glad Maj Cullah was the father. End of the "let me raise the boy" discussion.

Neelix says we are finally getting to the edge of Kazon space. We may not see them much anymore. We may have seen our last Talaxian other than Neelix, too, although they often range far beyond their normal travel areas. I guess we could see a few. They don't usually travel as far as our intrepid cook and guide intends to go, of course, but pretty far. The Vidiians will still be around for a while, too. Joy of joys.

But thankfully, we will never see Seska again.

We've certainly lost more than our share of the Maquis: Not one, but two traitors, Michael Jonas and Seska. Hogan. Banderas. Suder. Too many from Engineering. But Suder. Who would have thought that murderer would turn out to be a hero? Or that the Doctor would help save the ship? A holographic hero! But I'm not surprised Tom Paris ended up acting heroically again. He's making a habit of it.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50160.3_**

Harry still doesn't look good. It's taking him longer to shake this prison thing off than anyone thought. Tom is being really good to him. Maybe that's making it worse for Harry. He still feels so guilty he came so close to killing his best friend. Tom's being so understanding just rubs salt into the wound.

I took Tom aside today and told him to leave Starfleet alone. He needs some space, time to sort it all out. He said, "I know you're right, B'Elanna. I just hate to see him feeling so bad about something that wasn't his fault. Hell, I had that clamp on my scalp, too. I know what he was fighting. It was terrible, trying to think with that aggravating pain distracting you every second. You just couldn't get used to it, you know?"

Once Tom started talking, I realized he'd been hanging around Harry because he needed someone to talk to himself. Tom always seems so glib, able to take anything in his stride. No one realized he needed to confide in someone so that he could deal with his experience. It might have been even harder on him. Tom's been in prison before.

I guess it's too easy to forget what he told me in the Vidiian mines. Tom's childhood was more like mine than I could ever have imagined. We both spent a lot of time alone when we were kids: me because the others pushed the "Klingon kid" away; Tom, because his father was so invested in turning him into Admiral Thomas Eugene Paris, he lost sight of the fact that Tom was only a little boy. He always had Tom busy with his "training." No wonder Tom rebelled. That's where that attitude of Tom's comes from, I guess. Seems familiar to me. Too familiar.

We had a long talk then. It was good to have an actual person to talk to again. It's been a long time since I'd had that kind of talk with anyone, even with Harry.

Then, later that evening in Sandrine's, he was flirting with Nicoletti. I wanted to bash his face in. Whenever I think I finally know what makes this guy tick, he goes off and gets me aggravated at him all over again.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50201.1_**

I had another dream. This one was even more sensual than the first one. I was in my bedroom, and I heard him knocking on my window. I let him in. My lover, Dathan. He cried out my name. "Korenna!" And he kissed me. His mouth devoured mine. I looked up into his smiling blue eyes and began to get all quivery inside. I pulled off his shirt, revealing his beautiful, smooth-skinned torso.

We tumbled into bed. He tugged my nightgown away from my shoulders and slipped it down my body. My skin rubbed against his. I could feel his hands on me. My heart beat faster. We made love until my blood burned within me.

Then I woke up.

It had felt so real, so sensuous, I was totally aroused. From a dream.

It really _has_ been too long since I've had a man.

_End personal log_.

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50204.1_**

I had the dream again last night. Got aroused again. For the last couple of nights, all I've wanted to do was go to bed and fall asleep so I can experience these visions, or whatever they are. Dathan is so wonderful. He's the perfect lover. Tender, considerate. I never believed any man could be so wonderful.

That's it, I think. This is hard for me to admit, but these dreams - they're about so much more than sex. It's like a holonovel, truly. I really want to know what's going to happen next, but it isn't only that. I have never, in my life, had such sensuous dreams as these.

I have never known what it is to love, but this Korenna does know. What she has with Dathan, I can tell, it's more than sex. This is what it means to join with someone, body and soul. Every touch means so much more because of the caring that is behind it. Dathan wants to give her all of his love. Performing the act of love is just the means he uses to give himself to her.

She is so lucky.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50206.1_**

I feel sick. The dreams. The nightmares. I joined in, I betrayed him, I let my love be destroyed. He was burnt until his perfect flesh was charred and lifeless.

No, it wasn't me, it was Korenna. Jora Mirrell. I'm still confused and hurting.

Wait, let me start over from the beginning.

It's embarrassing, because I was late for my shift yesterday morning. I slept right through my wake up call. Well, I don't know if I can say I was sleeping. I was dreaming of making love in my sleep when the alarm went off! At any rate, Chakotay came to find out if anything was wrong. I finally told him about the dreams, about how sensual they are. He was okay with it; and he was understanding about me being late for my shift. This time.

I hadn't told anyone else. Who can I confide in? Tom or Harry? I think not!

Then, when I was getting ready to go to bed the other night, Tom came to see me. He and Harry were going to this party for the Enarans that have been on _Voyager_, traveling from their colony to their homeworld. I think he wanted me there because Harry's been attracted to Jessen, the Enaran engineer who's been working with us. Tom wanted someone to hang out with at the party. He knew Harry would be otherwise engaged. I blew Tom off, even though he looked really good. I like him better in blue or red than in those rusty colors he favors when he gets dressed in civvies. His suit was earth toned, but his shirt was red. Tom looked great.

He seemed concerned about me. What could I tell him? That I didn't want to go to the party because I was expecting to have more fun in my bed, dreaming about the best sex I've ever had? That I've never had, is more like it.

I didn't really want to look too deeply into this at the time. I mean, with Paris, all I'd have to do is crook my little finger and invite him into my bed. He'd have dumped the party and been all over me in seconds. The scuttlebutt is that Paris is really good in bed. Not that I ever expect to know, of course. I'm not about to become another of his conquests.

If I had only known what was going to happen, though . . . . Maybe I would have been better off if I _had _invited Paris to bed.

Anyway, I went to bed alone to enjoy another dream. It was a little different, this time. Korenna gets a lecture from her father to stay away from Dathan. After he's gone, Dathan appears from behind the curtain. We start to make love again. I'm feeling so much passion for Dathan.

Suddenly, there he is. Dathan, his face all burned away. I awoke, terrified.

I went to Chakotay and explained how the dreams had turned into nightmares. He said I may be experiencing something more than mere dreams, with a telepathic race like the Enarans on board. I figured Jessen might be able to help me. Or maybe Jora Mirrell, the older woman who was working with us, might know something I could do to protect myself.

When I was on my way to talk to Jessen, I suddenly collapsed in the corridor. I had still another dream. I was assaulted by a vision, that's a better way to put it, I think.

Dathan is a "regressive." Regressives are being shipped away from Enara. And Dathan doesn't want to leave me. Leave Korenna, I mean.

When the Doctor revived me, he was very disquieted. He feels these aren't dreams but telepathically induced memories. And they're causing brain damage.

He gave me a neural inhibitor. As long as I wore it, I couldn't receive any more memories, or dream at all, for that matter. Captain Janeway ordered me to take two days off "to rest." Now, when I would really rather not be in bed, I was ordered to go there.

I had to know what the finish to the story was. I think I already knew it was going to be bad, but I had to know. I removed the inhibitor.

A holocaust. An entire people destroyed because they didn't "fit in" with the other Enarans. And Dathan, my lover - Korenna's lover Dathan - was killed, betrayed by his lover, and burnt at the stake. Korenna cheered the executioners. The history of the Regressives' extinction was hidden by lies, including those spread by Korenna. I knew her as Jora Mirrell, the old woman who helped Jessen and me in Engineering. Now, at the end of her life, she'd had a change of heart. She wanted to let others know what she and her people had done. I was sick, but I was angry, too, even more so when I realized Jora Mirrell was dead. I ran into the farewell party and accused the Enarans of genocide. I accused them of her murder, too. I'm sure they silenced her by killing her telepathically.

They denied it, of course. Sure, like I always go around having these kinds of dreams and accusing alien races of wholesale murder.

Thank Kahless Janeway believed me. And thanks to Jessen, who was courageous enough to take the memories Korenna had passed on to me, the true story may become known on Enara after all.

I tried to go to sleep earlier tonight, but I couldn't relax enough to drift off. I went to Sandrine's to play a little pool, maybe have a little conversation. Anything, to avoid going back to bed and struggling to get to sleep. Harry and Tom were there. They asked me about what had happened. I did tell them - some of it, at least. I didn't tell them about the great sex part. Well, I did say the dreams were sexy, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them how they had affected me personally. Harry was a good listener. Tom was even better. I think he may have even had a hunch about the sex part. He had a look in his eyes that was very - knowing. Thankfully, he didn't ask me any tough questions.

I'm going to try to go to sleep now. I hope I can.

_End personal log_

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50254.1_**

I can't believe I dreamed that Enaran dream again last night. Maybe it was because of everything that happened with the Swarm and all. Tom getting hurt like that, and the Doctor forgetting how to do the surgery to save his life. It was a good thing Kes has come far enough along in her medical studies to be able to take over in an emergency. She was able to repair Tom's neural pathways. I don't know what we would have done without Kes today.

After Tom was out of danger, Kes and I worked on the Doctor. We finally got him back, even if it meant sacrificing the EMH diagnostic program. His memories are really messed up, but when we heard him singing a bit of opera, Kes and I smiled at each other. I think the Doctor will be all right, eventually.

All that talk about memories. That must've been what caused it. I mean, Tom's fishing for a date and teasing me about Freddie Bristow, that couldn't have been it. But even if I could have predicted having the Enaran dream again, I couldn't have foreseen how it was going to turn out to be so - so different.

The dream was just as sensual as the original ones were. I was in my bedroom, and I heard him knocking on my window. I let him in. My lover, dressed in his baggy clothes. He cried out my name: "B'Elanna!" and kissed me, his mouth devouring mine. I looked up into his sparkling, clear blue eyes and began to get all quivery inside. I stripped off his shirt, revealing his beautiful torso.

We tumbled into bed as he tugged the nightgown away from my shoulders and down my body. The skin of my body was against his, rubbing against the sensuous red-gold hairs of his chest. I felt his hands caress me until my blood burned inside me.

Then I woke up.

The dream had felt so real. I was aroused - from my dream of having sex with Tom Paris.

No, that isn't quite right. In my dream, I was making love with Tom Paris.

He was dressed in those clothes he and Chakotay wore when they went down to try to "out Ferengi the Ferengi," as Captain Janeway called it. But the rest of it was just like the dream of the Enaran. Just as sensuous, just as real, just as powerful, but with Tom's face and hands and what I imagine his body must be like, from what little I have seen of it, instead of Dathan's.

What can it mean? I don't feel anything like that for Tom. He's good looking, sure; and he's my friend. But I certainly don't think of him as being lover material.

At the staff meeting this morning, I couldn't look him in the eyes. He asked me what was wrong, and I just said I'd had a little trouble sleeping. He immediately asked me if I'd been having any flashback Enaran dreams. I'm sure it was a lucky guess, but I was mortified. I got curt with him and stormed out of the meeting. I never even asked him how he was feeling. After all, he had brain surgery yesterday!

I've had trouble keeping Tom out of my thoughts all day. It's ridiculous, I know, but I keep wondering if he could be as good a lover as he was in that dream.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50426.8_**

My stomachs have finally settled down. If that is what an "upset stomach" is, I will have a lot more sympathy for my staff when they complain of having one in the future!

Tom was great. I enjoyed our little sparring session in the mess hall, when he called me in to fix the replicator. He was so funny when I threatened to leave. The crew was getting pretty irritated with him, so I can understand that bit of panic he had in his voice.

When the gelpack broke and we were quarantined in the mess hall, waiting for the illness to affect us, he joked around the entire time to keep everyone's spirits up. And when I got so sick, he stayed close by me. Even when he was looking very sick himself, he kept looking after me.

I like teasing Tom, but he can be a good friend. I really _do_ like being around him, even though I would never tell him that. I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea. I mean, it isn't as if I'm in love with him, or anything.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50448.2_**

I had one of those Enaran dreams last night. With Tom again, of course. I was so aroused, I almost went to the Doctor to make sure nothing was wrong with me. I thought this kind of thing only happened to men!

I don't understand why I keep getting these dreams. That's the third one in two weeks. I certainly enjoy them while I'm having them, but when I wake up, I feel so empty. I guess I could go to the Doctor about it, but I hate to talk to him about something like this. The Doctor can be just a bit too curious sometimes. Especially about anything sexual. I guess he's missing what he can't have himself! I do wish I had someone else to talk to. You are a very good listener, Personal Log, but you aren't much for feedback.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50460.9_**

You know, I think I made the wrong choice tonight. I know the four of us had agreed to meet at the luau without making any definite plans to sit together. Still, when Vorik told me he'd reserved a special table for just the two of us, with my favorite view of the water, I could have said _something_. I knew Tom had expected us to be a foursome; and really, I had, too. But when Vorik took me by the arm and led me off, I let him.

Tom looked stunned. And then Harry came in only for a few moments and left again in a huff over something - I'll have to ask him what it was all about tomorrow morning - but that meant Tom was alone.

Usually, Tom can fend for himself pretty well. I mean, he has never exactly lacked for female companionship. Tonight, he circulated the room, but I never saw him with anyone for long. And he kept looking over at Vorik and me with the strangest expression on his face, like he wanted something he couldn't have. Like he was lonely. That's ridiculous, of course. He hasn't worked his way through all of the women on this ship yet! I didn't see him dance with anyone, though.

Vorik was very nice. It was very flattering to have him remember so many of my preferences and cater to me like that. He's a good engineer. For a Vulcan, he's surprisingly warm. Not emotional, exactly. I wouldn't want to insult him, even in my personal logs. He's just easy to talk to, and he was very attentive. Not at all like Tuvok. Of course, he's much younger than Tuvok. I enjoyed being with him tonight very much.

But I guess I would have enjoyed it more if Tom had been sitting with us. Even though I'd made fun of his ridiculous "Big Daddy"-whatever-it-was Hawaiian shirt, he was still very nice to me. To be honest, I was a bit rude to him, but Tom took it well, the way he usually does. And I liked hearing him tell me I looked so good in my dress. You can see if a man is sincere with a compliment by the look in his eyes when he's giving it. Tom was sincere.

At the end of the evening, Vorik wanted to walk me to my quarters, but I made my excuses. I had a nice time, but I'd had enough of Vorik by then.

I looked for Tom because I really wanted to have a chance to talk to him a bit before the end of the party. I was sorry he hadn't seemed to have had a very good time. I couldn't find him. Apparently, he left the luau early. I'll try to find him tomorrow.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50539.8_**

If that _petaQ _of a Vulcan ever comes within ten meters again about anything but an engineering problem, I will dislocate his jaw again. Or worse.

A lot's happened during the past couple of days that's hazy, but I can remember that absurd "marriage proposal" very clearly. There was absolutely no doubt about my refusal. How dare he try to push himself on me afterwards!

Vorik could have endangered the mission by his absence. We needed his expertise. As it was, the whole thing went so badly, I'm embarrassed it was on my watch. Maybe we got the gallicite in the end, but it sure didn't have anything to do with me. It only meant the whole thing wasn't a complete disaster.

I was really nasty to Neelix; and he was so good about it. He came to see me in Sickbay after, to see how I was. I tried to apologize, but he said it wasn't my fault. He knew I couldn't help myself. Neelix told me both of them picked up on how overly excited I was. Because they didn't know about what had happened with Vorik, neither of them had any clue to what was wrong with me. They simply thought I was enthusiastic about the mission. Even when I bit Tom, Neelix didn't understand what it meant, although I think Tom knows enough about Klingons to have a pretty good idea.

I don't know how I will ever be able to look Tom in the eyes again.

He was really - wonderful. Honorable. Too honorable for my good, or his own. Really, if you'd told me a couple of months ago I was going to throw myself at Tom Paris like that, I would've been sure Tom's response would be to jump on top of me faster than you could say, "Take me," whether I was out of my head from a Vulcan "chemical imbalance" or not.

Ha! "Sex Compulsion" is more like it.

I've heard of the _IwmeQbogh_, the Klingon "Blood Fever," of course, but I'd never really experienced it. I've had sex lots of times, but I've always been in perfect control. I took what a man could give me and enjoyed myself. This was so different. I was totally out of control. My body was in a feverish heat. My blood was burning like it was when I was having those Enaran dreams. I just had to have sex or go crazy. But even though I threw myself at Tom, he was too principled to take advantage of me!

When I confronted him in the mines, Tom tried to be so noble. He was so noble, I guess, refusing to give in for the sake of our friendship. He was worried I would be upset when I came to my senses, after the _pon farr_ was resolved. And he was right. I can't bear to think about being around him now, even though we didn't actually do anything. Or maybe the problem is that we _didn't _do anything, and we should have.

I was so happy when I found the gallicite conduits after I stormed away from Tom and Neelix I was able to control the burning, for a little while. But once I heard Tom calling out "B'Elanna" to me, my blood began to rage again. When I dragged him next to me, I caught his sense and almost jumped him right in front of Tuvok and Chakotay. That whole losing my temper thing, when the Sakari were actually trying to save me from a cave in? My snapping at my superior officers? I know those things happened, but the details are really muddy. All I really knew was Tom.

Once we were separated from Tuvok and Chakotay, I felt even more agitated. I was _so_ aroused sexually. I really tried to control those urges; but it was so difficult with Tom right next to me. Once Tom explained the _pon farr_ to me, I knew _why_ I felt that way, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

Then we fought, and Tom said it out loud. "This isn't about the gun, this is about sex. But that isn't going to happen now." The taste of his blood was in my mouth and the smell of him had drilled into my soul. I needed to taste him. I needed to feel his arms around me, for him to join with me, to complete me, two halves of the same whole. When he refused, I wanted to chew his flesh as I mounted him. Kahless! What a feeling. And when he made that joke about my finding him impossible to resist . . .

I have never been such a liar in my life. Of course I couldn't resist him. Unfortunately, he was able to resist me.

When our way was blocked and I jumped him, for a minute, I could feel Tom's resolve weakening. He was still trying to be noble, but it was really hard for him to roll out from beneath me and pull away. Very hard.

And when I played dirty, throwing his yearning for me in his face, he admitted how he felt. He said he wanted me, but he knew I wasn't myself. I'd told him lots of times that I wasn't interested, so he wasn't going to take advantage of me now. He was still being the noble Paris.

All my lies, to him, to myself, come home to haunt me! Pushing my body against his, I told him it wasn't true, that I really did want him, that I'd been afraid to admit it. I didn't say I'd been afraid to admit it to myself, but that was really what I meant.

The look he had on his face when I said that to him, I will never forget. Incredulity, mixed with hope. Desire. I knew he wasn't lying when he said he wanted me.

I had him backed against the wall of the cavern, and I forced him to kiss me.

That first kiss. Kahless! What that felt like. My whole body throbbed. Even when he was trying to pull away, he couldn't help responding to me. His eyes were closed. He was all but groaning as he shook his head. It's as if he was trying to convince himself he didn't want me. But he did. I know he did. I know the way he kissed me back. For a minute, I thought it was all going to be all right. We were going to have sex, make passionate love right on that dusty floor of the cavern.

I wouldn't have minded then even if Chakotay and Tuvok came in to watch us. I wouldn't have cared if Janeway and everyone on the whole damn _ship _had been there watching us. I wanted _us_, Tom and me, more than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life.

He backed me up against the opposite wall, his wrist light shining over my face. He kissed me thoroughly. Then he released his lips for a moment to stroke my face with those wonderful hands of his. I have watched those fingers of his dancing over the helm, and I can admit the truth now: I have often wondered what it would be like to have those fingers touching me. Touching me intimately.

I remember thrusting those hands away from me when they tried to comfort me in the Vidiian caverns. Stupid, stupid B'Elanna! I would give anything for him to want to touch me with those hands now.

Then he was grazing my lips so gently with his fingers, telling me he hoped I'd say I wanted him again someday, when I really meant it.

Why didn't I stay calm then? Just told him I really did mean it, now and forever. Instead, my brutal, nasty Klingon side came out and screamed at him. I'm not even sure what it was I said - that I'd go crazy if he didn't help me? Maybe. I'm not sure. I think that was what I said. That was when things started getting a lot more confusing. Hazy. I remember how he looked at me, with pain on his face. He said something to me that I didn't quite catch. If I'd thrown my body against his then, I don't think he could have held out.

But then I collapsed. I don't remember a lot of what happened after that. Even after we got back to the surface, it's mostly a blur. Tom spoke with me once, but I have no idea what we said to each other. I heard Chakotay's voice, and Tuvok's. There was a rumbling noise. Maybe it was another earthquake. I felt hands on me, helping me up, holding me as we crawled over some rocks. Then we were out of the tunnels to the surface. We stopped a few times, whether it was to get our bearings or to signal _Voyager_, I'm not sure. I'm pretty certain it was Tom who held me up, though, and that it was Tom who led me out of the tunnels.

The light was so bright, I had to bend down to hide my eyes, I remember that. And then Tom was kneeling in front of me, and he was saying something that broke through my confusion. It was what I had wanted to hear. Something about how neither of us wanted it to happen this way, but now it was too late to worry about that.

Too late for anything but for him to become my mate, to acknowledge I had marked him as mine. I had tasted his blood. He had to give me what I wanted - what I needed from him.

I don't know how long he might have gone on talking, but I had to stop him. I led him into the bushes. Tuvok and Chakotay left, I think, but I wouldn't have cared if they hadn't, any more than I would have cared before, when we were still in the tunnels. Maybe if they'd been watching, it would have gone better. They could have protected us from that _petaQ!_ Tom and I could have finished what we'd started.

We found ourselves in a clearing. My mind was still pretty fuzzy, but when I started to peel back his sleeves and sniff his scent, it began to clear. I know he felt awkward, which I guess is funny. Tom Paris, playboy of _Voyager_, wasn't sure how to make love to a woman! It's because he wanted it to be a Klingon experience, I'm sure; he's pretty upfront about his admiration for Klingon ways. Normally he would have known exactly what to do. But he let me lead. He asked me about throwing heavy objects, I think. What I wanted was to feel him holding me, and then he was; we were face to face, body to body, as I growled at him in excitement.

When he growled at me - and not very well, I must say - a jolt went all the way into me. I burned for him. I threw him down on the ground and mounted him. He seemed confused, and I know I got angry at him. I asked him what he thought he was doing, and he said, "Enjoying myself?" in such a quizzical way.

Then those blue eyes were looking up at me, and we smiled as both of us felt his arousal. Tom finally understood exactly what I needed. He tussled with me and rolled me over onto my back, rubbing himself against by body and grappling roughly with me. The waiting was over. We were still dressed, but in a few seconds, we were going to rip the clothing from our bodies. He was going to satisfy that urge that Tom now felt as strongly as I did.

And then that stinking bastard _petaQ_ of a Vulcan showed up. He tore Tom off me, screaming that I was _HIS_ mate. Tom started yelling at him. I wanted to kill him. It's a good thing Tuvok and Chakotay came running up and held us back anyone did kill anyone else.

Tom was willing to take the "challenge," but I had to do it. If I hadn't I probably would've joined in the fight between the two of them anyway. That wouldn't have been the honorable thing to do, but I couldn't have stopped myself. I was so angry, I needed to do _something._ I couldn't just stand around watching the two of them.

Once the fight started, I knew I'd made the right choice. My burning blood channeled into the muscles of my body. The feverish heat helped me focus on bashing the arrogant bastard's face in. I didn't succeed, of course, but I gave as good as I got until neither of us could swing any more. Vorik fell, but I still stood, wavering, until Tom's scent drew me back to him. Exhausted, I stumbled into a warm pair of arms that cradled me.

I don't remember much of what happened for a long while. Gentle hands brushed my hair in comfort, that I know. I drifted in and out of sleep, I guess. The same arms seemed to be around me whenever I became conscious for a moment, but I'm not absolutely sure. When I finally woke up, I was on a biobed in Sickbay. The Doctor was looking down at me, with the captain and Kes at my other elbow. The fever was purged, he said. I looked around. Vorik was on another biobed, asleep. There was no one else there.

This time, Tom didn't come to visit me while I was in Sickbay. I wouldn't have wanted to see him even if he had come. I told the Doctor to keep him away from me. What could I have said? The way I threw myself at him, I hadn't acted any better towards Tom than Vorik did to me.

The Doctor is releasing me for duty tomorrow. The Sakari have supplied us with enough gallicite to refit the warp coils, in return for technical assistance to make the Sakari presence even more difficult to detect from a passing spacecraft. There is work for me to do. I hope that once I'm working again on the warp coils, my mind will be occupied enough by that task, I'll be able to stop regretting what now will never be.

I don't know why I'm recording all of this. I'm just torturing myself. The friendship Tom and I have shaped through so much effort over the past three years is destroyed now. I'm going to miss it. I'm going to miss him.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50540.2_**

I had another dream. This one was different, yet so much the same. There was no bedroom or bed, but the figure that faced me was the same one that I have seen many nights before in these dreams. He was dressed in baggy clothing, and his blue eyes smiled at me until we kissed. I tore the clothes off his body. He ripped the nightgown from my shoulders. I felt his skin against mine as we rolled in the dust of dark, almost-deserted tunnels, his hands touching me intimately.

Then there were no tunnels or caverns, just a forest clearing where cool grass carpeted the ground beneath our entwined bodies. My blood burned with a feverish heat, and I couldn't wait any longer. I had to have him. We moaned together, losing our separate selves in our joint desire, each echoing the other.

I woke up alone, lonely, lying in a bed soaked with sweat.

I wish you could turn off dreams the way you can a holodeck program.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50545.8_**

It had to happen eventually. As he said, we're going to be on this ship together for a very long time. Everyone uses the turbolifts constantly to get wherever they need to be. It's no surprise that was where we finally met again.

At least we were alone. We were both so incredibly awkward at first, I didn't know where to put my hands or where I could safely look. We had a short exchange of small talk about the warp core refit, something I have never been much good at under the best of circumstances, let alone this. The small talk, I mean, not the refit. How can you chat casually with a man you've been making love to in your dreams for weeks? A person who was almost your lover in fact only a few days before, when you demanded he have sex with you? With Tom so close to me, I could catch the scent of him, too. He always smells good, but now, with the memory of the bitter iron taste of his blood lingering in my mouth, Tom was intoxicating.

I tried to make it easier for him. I thanked him for being willing to . . . help me. I told him we should just forget about it. As far as I was concerned, it didn't really happen. But he refused to accept that. He said something I would never have expected to hear him say: "You were afraid your big, scary Klingon side was showing. You know, I saw it up close, and it wasn't so bad. I wouldn't mind seeing it again someday."

For as long as the ride continued, I could think of nothing else to say. When I reached Deck 11 and left the turbolift, however, something made me say, "Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant."

I couldn't see his face behind me, but I think I heard him catch his breath. My mind raced furiously as the door closed behind me, but he didn't follow me to ask what I meant. I'm glad. I'm not sure I know what I meant myself. But I do know this:

I have marked him. In Klingon tradition, he is already my mate, my betrothed, even though we have not completed the act that will bind us together for life. Until now, I've always rejected Klingon traditions. This time my blood refuses to agree with my rebellion.

At the staff meeting an hour later, I sat next to Tom. His scent floated over to me. I could feel the blood singing in my veins the entire time. We are going to be together on this ship for the next sixty-seven years, barring a miracle or two. I don't know what I'll do if my human side can't keep my Klingon side from lusting after Tom for all of those years.

Unless he does become my mate.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50734.6_**

I ended up in Sickbay _again_. This is the seventh time in about six months. I don't even think Tom's been here that often lately!

He came by to see me while Harry was down on the planet of the Beautiful Soul-Sucking Vampire Women, as Tom called it later. When he arrived I was still feeling the effects of whatever the Doctor had given me for my plasma burns, writhing around on the biobed trying to find a comfortable position. I'm not sure exactly what I looked or sounded like when I glanced up at him, but from the look on his face, I couldn't have been myself. I do remember he asked, "You wouldn't by chance want any company in that bed, would you, Torres?" before the Doctor came up, all huffy, to chase him away for bothering his patient. If I was bothered, it wasn't by what Tom was saying. In fact, the proposition sounded pretty good at the time. Must have been the medication.

When the Doctor released me from Sickbay, all of the excitement about the Tiresians was over. We had been able to rescue Harry, but he was still getting his spots removed when I left the Doctor's tender care. Tom walked me back to my quarters, acting like a perfect gentleman.

I guess I'm glad, because we're finally getting back to the friendship we had before. The last thing I want is to get into some kind of situation that will set me off again. My hunger for Tom has been under control; I haven't had one of those dreams in almost two months. Since the Borg planet episode, in fact. I guess the Borg can have a dampening effect on just about anything, including the Klingon mating urge.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50839.7_**

Today has been a day I would rather forget. I wouldn't even make this entry, except I owe it to the Doctor to make this record, just to remind myself to be careful in the future when I start playing God. Which is exactly what I did, I'm afraid. I'm just hoping I wasn't subconsciously trying to get back at the Doctor for the way he treated me when he overdid the personality improvement program a couple of months ago.

The Doctor's holographic daughter died today, thanks to me and my "tweaked program." Maybe the Doctor and his family are just representations of people, illusions, the images of bodies created by a computer program, but from what Tom told me, they're real enough to the Doctor. I told myself I just wanted Charlene, Belle and Jeffrey to be recognizable human beings, even if they are artificial. I'm sure I went too far with my alterations to the program, though. Sure, maybe I was overreacting to all of that, that treacle - that totally unreal sweetness and light I saw when Kes and I went to dinner. "Lollipop" or not, Belle didn't deserve to die because the parameters of the program were weighted toward the more pessimistic outcomes.

I tried to make amends. Tom and I went to Sickbay after he told me what had happened. I offered to reprogram Belle for the Doctor, but he said no. Tom talked to him about experiencing the good and the bad about families when he'd tried to run away from it. The Doctor told us that whether or not he continued with his family program, the only honest thing to do was to accept the tragedy and move on, as real people do. I caught Tom's eyes when he said that, and I think Tom was thinking the same thing I was: the Doctor never seemed more like "real people" to us than he did at that moment.

We compromised. Tom and I are programming a memorial service for Belle are presenting tomorrow. Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Kes, Harry, and Tuvok have already promised to attend. Neelix is preparing a meal for afterwards. It was all Tom's idea, but it was a good one. I wish I had thought of it.

The rest of what happened pales in comparison to the Doctor's loss. Tom almost became a dead hero again - what else is new? The astral eddies were dangerous. He promised to be careful, but he was caught inside one before we could do anything about it. We managed to save him, and the shuttle, too, for once. When he was stuck inside the interfold layer, I was really frightened. I didn't think we would ever be able to get him out. I think I hid it well, except from the captain. She knew, but she seemed pretty scared herself. She didn't embarrass me by pointing out my fear for Tom.

And when he got back, Tom found out about Belle, so it was still a bad day after he was rescued. If we had lost Tom, though, it would have been so much worse.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Personal Log, Addendum_**

After listening to this really depressing log I'd recorded earlier, I realized I'd forgotten the one time today that actually wasn't too bad. Lunch. It was fun teasing Tom when he swiped my romance novel. A technical manual, indeed! If that line about "a beautiful woman should never have to eat alone" is typical of his pick-up lines, it's a wonder he's been as successful with women as he's been!

With the astral eddies interrupting us, and all, I wonder whatever happened to my PADD? Tom said he doesn't know where it is, since we had to leave in such a hurry. I'll have to ask Neelix about it in the morning. I'm only half way through the story. I was just getting to the really good part.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50912.9_**

We've finally finished repairing all the damage the Nyrians didn't bother to fix from Chakotay's little rampage during their takeover, so I actually had a chance to relax a bit today. I checked where Tom was, since I knew he wasn't due on duty until Gamma shift tonight. He was on the holodeck, in the resort, sipping a drink in the sun. After that frigid habitat, it was a logical place for him to hang out. For both of us, really. And it made it so much easier to say what I wanted to say to him, without having to go into any emotionally charged apologies and explanations I just didn't want to get into in the middle of the day like that and, uh . . . well.

I really _was_ sorry about all of the nasty things I'd said about his stupid Klingon program, but I was glad I didn't need to go into much detail.

I was able to get away with saying only that I was glad to be "warm again. " That it had been "chilly" for a while. And by the way he smiled, I'm sure he knew the comment had nothing to do with the sunshine.

Tom can be so annoyingly pushy, like he was with the Klingon martial arts program, but I know he's trying to send me a message about caring for all of me, for both sides of my heritage. And he's right. Sometimes I _am _hostile over nothing. He can take it, though. Unlike Starfleet, who flinched because I just _asked _him if I was hostile, Tom confronted me when I was swinging a bat'leth in his face. One thing I cannot deny about Mr. Paris is that he has courage. He definitely has the _cojones_, as the Terran saying goes.

I was thinking of that when we were sitting there together in the sun, and then, somehow, it popped out. "Tom, how about dinner tonight?"

I'm not sure who was more stunned, me or him, but he accepted before I could take back the invitation.

We had a very nice time. I've never known anyone who can be so smarmy one moment, and so thoughtful and sincere the next. Lately, sincere has been winning out most of the time. Just before he left, he asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow, and I accepted. Before he could change his mind? No, I don't think there was any way he was going to do that!

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50953.4_**

Seska. I never thought I would ever say her name in this log again, other than to refer to her death a year ago. According to Tuvok, right in the middle of everything going crazy for them on the holodeck, Tom cracked, "I guess we should've known Seska wouldn't let a little thing like death keep her from getting even!"

I cannot fathom how Tom is able to make a joke like that when his life is threatened. I wonder, is that what makes him a good pilot? The ability to think instinctively in a crisis? Whatever, at least he and Tuvok both escaped, relatively unhurt.

When the captain finally managed to break through Seska's sabotaged computer codes and shut down the holodeck program, I wanted to run into Tom's arms and hold him. I might have ended up blubbering all over him. I guess it's a good thing he had to go to Sickbay to get his arm treated. By the time I got the chance to see him again, when we were all in the mess hall, I'd calmed down enough so I didn't make a total fool of myself.

We all sat around the mess hall: Neelix, Tuvok, Chakotay and Captain Janeway, Tom and I. What a nice time we had. When we started talking about holodeck novels, Chakotay was even able to joke he didn't want to be the bad guy the next time Tuvok wrote one! He seems so comfortable with both Tom and Tuvok now. And I have to wonder if anything is going on between Janeway and Chakotay. They seemed awfully cozy. I asked Tom about it later in his quarters, and he just raised his eyebrow like Tuvok does. I think he suspects something is happening, too. They've been really careful, if they have done anything. They're obviously attracted to one another.

What a long way we've come: Maquis refugees seeking shelter on a Starfleet vessel, with so many of the Starfleet crew resentful of us, blaming us, even, because we were all caught by the Caretaker and marooned in the Delta Quadrant. Why, the Delta Quadrant has actually started to feel like home to me now.

In Tom's quarters after dinner, we talked about another holodeck program. In a moment of insanity, I made a comment about possibly doing a little something to mark the Day of Honor. The next thing I know, he's sketching out a holodeck "experience" for me based on the rituals of the day. I should have known better than to tell "Mr. Klingon Traditions" anything about it. I mean, I understand what he's trying to do. He has this crazy idea I need to "embrace the inner Klingon" so I can accept my true, entire self. Is it so essential that I like that part of myself more? I only seem to get in trouble whenever I get into this Klingon stuff.

I am not sure why I'm holding back from telling Tom how I feel about him. I think he feels the same way about me, but the words don't seem to want to come. I know we don't want to rush into anything. The way our own families were, we both have some scars. I guess we know that once we admit it, we can never go back to being "just friends" again. Not the two of us. It was hard enough after that _pon farr_ business.

I don't think it will be long now before we end up doing something about it, though. I've started to have those dreams again.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51009.9_**

She's gone. Kes isn't with us anymore. It's not as if we expected her to be on the journey with us the whole way to the Alpha Quadrant. Her life expectancy was always so short. But who expected it to end this way? Not even four years old, and she's gone. A spirit. A _qa'Dol. _Those powers of hers, so unbelievable once unleashed. She was right to leave the way the ship was being affected, and she gave us an incredible gift by hurling us ten years closer to home.

But we'll all miss her. I may miss her most of all, because of the missed opportunity. I never did get a chance to get to know her the way I wanted. At the end, when we started working more closely together because of the Doctor's programming, I was starting to think she was someone I could confide in. Like with Seska - only Kes was someone who was _worth _having as a friend!

Good-bye, Kes. I hope you find whatever it is you're seeking.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51011.1_**

That Seven-of-Nine of Borg, what a nasty piece of work she is. She and her friends managed to muck up my engines and just about every system on _Voyager_. It'll take _weeks _to get the ship back to normal, if it ever is.

I hope Janeway keeps her far away from Engineering. Not only does the Borg make me shiver every time she comes near me; but, if Harry's reaction is typical, no male will get any work at all done if she's anywhere within visual range.

At least we managed to get out of the Borg's part of space for the time being. Tom and I were talking about that tonight at dinner. We can't believe that a few short weeks ago, we were thinking the Delta Quadrant was getting to be home. If it _is_ our home, it's a pretty dangerous neighborhood.

And the Day of Honor is coming up next week, too. Tom showed me some of his plans for the Day of Honor ritual program. I agreed to work on it some more with him, but I never gave him any guarantee I would actually use it. And considering some of the things that have happened to me on the Day of Honor in the past, I really think just lying low that day would be best.

I wonder if Janeway would let me have the day off so I can sleep the day away?

_End personal log_.

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51022.4_**

Day of Honor. A typical Day of Honor, for me. A miserable day, the worst day of my life.

Had a fight with Chakotay over being stuck supervising the Borg; fought with Tom over this stupid "Day of Honor" holodeck program; Seven tried generating a transwarp conduit, which screwed up my engines; had to dump the warp core or blow up _Voyager;_ went out in a shuttle to work with Tom after our fight; almost was killed when the _shuttle _blew up on us; and then just about died of asphyxiation when Tom's and my EVA suits were damaged while we were floating in space. Oh, and I had a reminder of what an upset stomach was like when out in space, too. Charming. Almost the last thing I ever did was vomit in a space suit. I certainly would have wanted to die if I'd managed that one, I'm sure.

And one other little thing. Expecting we were going to die, I finally got brave and actually told Tom I loved him. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Because now we aren't dead, and he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me he loved me back. He could have lied about it! After all, if we were dead, what would it have mattered? Instead, what do I get? "You picked a great time to tell me!" A _joke!_

I can't understand it, either. The look on Tom's face when I told him - he got so sad. He's been pursuing me for such a long time. Am I really only just a conquest to him? Even if he couldn't have had my body, isn't my soul enough?

He was flirting with me earlier, talking about "first contact' and wanting me to "work his controls." He just about begged me to tell him I didn't think he was a pig anymore. When we were floating in space, clasping our bodies as close as we could while waiting to die, Tom told me he was glad the last thing he was ever going to see was my face. I could feel his arms tightening around me as we were getting the countdown on how much air we had left - how many more seconds of awareness we had of holding each other. I was concentrating on being with him so much during those last few moments that it didn't even register right away that _Voyager _was coming towards us. My eyes were closed. I didn't know until I heard Tom's answer to Janeway's comm signal.

Suddenly we were in Sickbay and the Doctor was pulling off our helmets so we could breathe. He gave us some Tri-Ox to help us recover. Tom could have told me then what he feels for me. Or did he think I was lying to him because of oxygen deprivation? All I know is that he held me in that hug for several more seconds, just gazing into my eyes, without saying word one to me. This man is just so infuriating.

The call to go to Engineering came then, of course. If the Doctor could release me, Janeway needed me right away to help get the warp core back on line. He let me go, and I worked all night, getting madder and madder at Paris every time I yanked on a hyperspanner.

And my typical Day of Honor luck seems to have carried over into today. At 0930 this morning, Chakotay found me still on duty and yelled at me for working all night. He ordered me to my quarters to rest! Who did he think was going to take care of all the repairs with me in bed? Seven and Vorik?

Men!

I will try to calm down and get some sleep now, but I don't expect to get too much.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Addendum._**

I guess I needed the rest. I slept for over nine hours.

I've been lying here since I woke up, thinking about Mr. Paris. No sex dreams, this time, thank God. But I have been pondering everything that happened when we were floating in space, and about our fight yesterday. It was over my pushing him away all the time to keep him from getting too close to me. It made me think about the fight we had when the Nyrians had us. Tom wasn't quite as angry this time as he was that night in the Federation habitat, but it was bad enough. That time - when the Doctor's wonderful psychological tidbits while we were trying to make up made us angrier at each other than we had been to start with - well, the thing is, the Doctor was right. I am trying to protect myself from getting hurt when I push someone away. I even admitted that to Tom when we were stranded in space. And Tom, he makes a joke and pretends it all doesn't matter anyway. I was right about that, too, I know it.

Was that what he was doing? Was my telling him I loved him so overwhelming, he had to protect himself with a joke, even at a time like that?

The thing is, Harry once told me Tom was always falling in and out of love for a while. I'll just bet that telling a woman he loved her was something he did casually, as part of the game. Maybe it wouldn't have meant very much to him if he _had _said he loved me yesterday. Instead, he told me he was glad I was the one he was going to die with.

And he seemed so stunned when I told him. Maybe, if I hadn't prodded him into saying something to me, he never would've said anything at all in words. Now that I'm not oxygen-deprived any more, I remember how we touched each other's helmets. I remember that look he gave me, when we thought it was the last look we would ever share. He held me close, as close as we could get with those suits on. They would have found our dead bodies wrapped up together like that - if we had died, that is.

I wish I was better at this kind of thing. I know I'm not the most self-aware person. My own feelings overwhelm me sometimes. Being able to figure out someone else's, well, that really is a bit much. But I think I need to get in Tom's face about this, or we will just drift on forever the way we are.

That isn't going to be enough for me, not anymore.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51026.1_**

Three days I avoided him. I admit it. After all those brave words in my log about having to confront him, I didn't. I didn't want to hear him say he didn't really want me after all. At least, not as anything more than a friend. Then he cornered me coming out of the dinner for Tuvok's promotion to lieutenant commander.

He still hasn't told me he loves me in so many words. Although "shut up" seems like a pretty good way to let someone know you care for them, if you get kissed the way he kissed me right afterwards. Really, truly kissed me. But then the Doctor interrupted us and I ran off. I didn't expect to see him again so quickly, but Tom must've have run all the way from the mess hall to get to my quarters the same time I got there.

Tom and I couldn't have a very late night. It was almost 2300 already when the dinner broke up. He has to go on duty this morning at 0600.

I love it. I'm in love with Tom, the Doctor's new nurse. I wish I could tell that to Kes. I think she would've gotten a big laugh over that.

_End personal log._

* * *

**_Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51028.6_**

I'm _so_ mad at him. He wants me to go through with that Klingon program after all. If he really _did _love me, he wouldn't ask that. It's a stupid program.

And he was so sweet up to then, taking such good care of me after that lunatic hologram Dejaren - excuse me - that lunatic _isomorphic projection _Dejaren - tried to rip all eight chambers out of my heart. The Doctor may have repaired the physical damage, but Tom was taking no chances. He held me and kissed me, but nothing too exciting, he said.

My heart was perfectly fine! I was eager for sex, but he said we should wait until I was healed up. I told him I was healed up enough; he insisted he could wait. That was frustrating enough, but that wasn't all that was frustrating. He _still _hasn't told me if he loves me.

I wonder if that's the real reason we fought? Because that was when we started talking about that program, and we then had the fight. How many times do I have to tell him I don't want to have anything to do with that Klingon stuff? He says I have to. It's ridiculous. And yet, if it really didn't mean anything to me, why am I still thinking about the Day of Honor, almost a week past the day? And thinking about my mother?

I was so little when Father left Mother. I never asked her what happened - if he just couldn't take being married to a Klingon, or if there was some other reason he left. Even if I do get back to the Alpha Quadrant someday, who knows if I will find that she's still alive? Or if she'll even talk to me about it if she is alive? With that code of honor she has, she'll probably keep the secret to her grave. If only I knew why it didn't work out for them.

All I know is that Tom has shown me over and over he wants me. All of me. Klingon temper and all. And I keep pushing him away. Is he right? If I can't accept that part of me, are we doomed to repeat what happened to my mother and my father? Is that why he can't bring himself to tell me he loves me?

This thinking out loud is making me crazy. I have to do something.

_End personal log?_

* * *

**_Personal Log, Addendum_**

I found Tom in Holodeck 1. He had the Klingon Day of Honor program running, but he was just standing in the middle of the cavern. The holocharacters weren't there when I walked in. Tom was alone. His back was to the entrance. He was so dazed, he didn't even notice me until I appeared in front of him.

The look on his face was so - how can I describe it? He seemed so lonely, bleak, even bereft. As if he'd lost his best friend.

He actually jumped back a step when he saw me. I guess I was my usual self. A bit belligerent. I really meant to apologize about our argument, that's all. I'm not sure what came over me, but instead I shouted that if he expected me to finish this damned program, he'd better be prepared to finish it with me. He stared at me, totally confused.

"But B'Elanna, I'm not a Klingon." He actually said that to me.

I then informed him that he was more Klingon than me, sometimes. Honor means more to Tom, I think, than any non-Klingon I know. He managed to throw his away with one lie in a time of panic, and he's been doing his level best to get it back by becoming a dead hero ever since. And then I added the clincher: "Unless you aren't up to it, of course."

Men are _sooooo _predictable, especially Tom. Challenge their manhood, and you can get them to do anything you want.

Pain sticks. Hand to hand combat. Fighting with the bat'leth. Traversing the stinking sulfur lagoons of Gorath. Side by side, we endured the pain. Back to back, we fought away holographic enemies. And when we were done, standing in the center of that first cavern, dripping with sweat that stung the scratches the holodeck safeties couldn't prevent, I turned to him and told him the foreplay was over. "Now it's time for you to see that Klingon side of me the way you've always wanted to, Tom Paris. Don't deny it, and don't make any more excuses. My heart can take it. And no more _jokes_."

His chest was heaving as he gulped in air. Those clear blue eyes of his gleamed, illuminated by the flaming torches. I didn't need to hear him say any love words then, I could see them in his eyes. Not just desire, although that was flaring in them, too. But love. I knew he was mine.

I bit him, claimed him. He kissed me, devoured my mouth until my insides were quaking in anticipation. I pulled his uniform open, yanked his turtleneck over his head to reveal his body. I drew my hands over his broad shoulders. Slowly I dragged my fingers through the tangles of red gold hair I encountered as I kissed his chest. He gasped when I pushed his uniform off the rest of his body.

How vulnerable a man is at that moment. Exposed. How much must he trust you, to let a woman have such power over him. I wonder if a man even thinks of that when he is being touched, when he is lost in the sensations a woman is engendering in him? I thought of it as I was kissing and teasing Tom until he was groaning and calling out my name. "B'Elanna." I thought, _he does trust me. Completely._

My turn. Tom ripped my uniform open, dragging me down with him onto the dusty floor of the simulated cavern. His mouth tasted my skin; his hands, those wonderful hands, alternately kneaded and caressed my entire body until I was murmuring his name, too. I was excited by the pain of his bite on my shoulder. His lips kissed my mouth and my neck before descending to my breasts, exploring me until I was moaning in tormented pleasure, burning for him until our cries echoed in the torch-lit cavern.

I did not awaken in my quarters, alone in my bed. This was not a dream. My senses were filled by his musky scent, the taste of his salty skin, his panting breath, the weight of his body pressed so close to me. Tom raised his head. His eyes met mine, and I fell into his soul. He finally said, "I love you." It really didn't matter then. I didn't need to hear him say it anymore. I knew it. The look on his face, every touch of his hand, every kiss, had already told me. This had been about so much more than just sex.

He's lying in my bed now, long body sprawled every which way in sleep. Whatever I wanted in a lover tonight, Tom was. A gentle lover, he was gentle. Passionate, sweet, tough, commanding, each in turn.

And enthusiastic - always, very enthusiastic.

I finally got him to admit tonight he'd had my PADD with _Women Warriors at the River of Blood _all this time, studying it to see what Klingons liked when they made love. He happily demonstrated the expertise he'd gleaned from his studies.

What do you know, it _was _a technical manual, after all!

After he fell asleep the last time, exhausted, I started listening to selections from my personal logs from the very beginning of my time on _Voyager_ to the present. I have to laugh now at some of the entries. I don't want to delete any of the entries, but if there was any way to amend the logs after the closing words of "End personal . . . etc." were said, I think I would be changing a lot of them. I can't believe how hard I was on him. How blind I was about what he means to me, and about how long he has meant all he does to my life. After that whole _pon farr_ thing, how could I just let myself go back to being only his friend, knowing how badly I wanted him? Both of us almost died several times since then, apart from our spacewalk adventure. We could so easily have never known what we know now.

I don't know what else to say, except that now I understand why Ro Laren cried so hard when she lost Tom. Why she said I could trust him, back when I was too stupid to listen to her. Now that I really know him, I love this man to the core of my being. Tom is everything to me, and will be forever. Or for as close to forever as we are lucky enough to get, way out here.

I hope I've seen the end of dream lovers.

_[You have, B'Elanna. As long as I have anything to say about it.]_

Tom! I thought you were asleep!

_[Sleep? When I can hear all this talk about sex going on in here? Me?]_

How long have you been listening to me?

_[Well, I can recall hearing something about what a pig I am . . . ]_

You were eavesdropping on my personal logs the entire time!

_[B'Elanna, you've got the volume set so high, I think they can hear your personal logs on the bridge.]_

Kahless! You've been in there lis . . . what are you doing?

_[I thought I would help you get more comfortable . . . .]_

Don't change the subject.

_[I thought that maybe a little massage would calm you down. Now, isn't that better?]_

Well, uhh. Hmm. Hmm. Oh, yes. That's pretty good.

_[How about a little of this . . .]_

Oh, yes . . . Tom . . . Ahhhhh.

_[Still mad?]_

Ahhh. Hmm. Well, uh, oh, uh, you should have let me . . . oh, yes! Ahh, umm. You should have let me know, oooooh . . . Ahhh, yes, hhhmmm . . . that you were, ohh,. . . uhmm . . . you were there. Ohhh. Listening to my logs. Ohhhhh. Hmmm. That's good, Tom. That feels sooooo gooood, Tom. I just love your massages.

_[To make it up to you for listening to your logs, I'll let you hear mine::::mmmm:::: sometime. You can hear me tell all about the times ::::mmmm:::: I woke up from my dreams of you ::::HHHMMmmm::::]_

OOHHH, Tom, oohh. MMmmm.

_[And you can hear me try to ::::HHHmmMMM:::: convince myself ::::ooohhhh:::: I was in love with other women ::::hhhmmm:::: when I knew it was you :::::mmm:::: from the time ::::HHhhhm:::: when the Vidiians had us :::::Hhmmooohhh::::]_

Hmmm. You are a very good kisser, Tom.

_[Hmmm. Could say the same for you, B'Elanna.]_

Tom? Why are you smiling at me like that?

_[B'Elanna, I love this. But, uhh, as much as I would like to record what we are about to do for posterity, don't you think you should have ended your personal log entry before we got so . . . involved?]_

Tom, don't be ridiculous. I already did, ages ago.

_[I don't recall you saying the three magic words, 'end personal . . . ' etc.]_

Of course I, uh, did . . . didn't I? Computer, when did I finish my personal log entry?

_:::::Personal log is still recording:::: _

Oh, no!

_[It's okay. You can delete the whole entry. Or just amend the last part before you save it with the magic words. No problem.]_

Oh, well.

_[B'Elanna? Why are you smiling?]_

_Computer, end personal log._

* * *

**General Disclaimer:** Paramount and Viacom, Inc. own the rights to _Star Trek: Voyager,_ and its characters. This story is not intended to infringe upon these rights in any way. The story was written for the enjoyment of fans, like myself, who appreciate the acting talents of Roxann Dawson and Robert Duncan McNeill, who do such a wonderful job of bringing these characters to life. Thank you, Roxann and Robbie.

(Originally published on ASC in 1997)


	2. Log Entries Addendum (2)

**Log Entries: The B'Elanna Torres Logs **

**(Personal Logs of _Voyager's_ Chief Engineer's Personal Logs)**

**by J. A. Toner (a.k.a. Jamelia)**

* * *

**Log Entries 2 - Addendum**

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51502.3**

So much about today was bad, it's hard to believe that I'm here now, feeling pretty good. Well, after what Tom and I just finished doing, I guess it's no surprise I'm feeling good. It doesn't make up for everything, but it helps. Kahless, does it ever help! He really is good to me. I hope I can be as good to him.

I hope not telling him is good for him. Hard to say now for sure. I just knew I couldn't bring him that message.

How could that man have fathered anyone so wonderful? Tom must take after his mother. I just want to rip out his heart. The admiral's, I mean.

As usual, I'm getting ahead of myself. I keep telling myself I'm not going to do this anymore. A simple, straightforward recounting of the day's events for my log, maybe a little commenting afterwards. And then, every day, I start ranting and wandering all over the place. You'd think I'd have learned better. I've certainly had enough practice in the last four years!

Anyway, dear Personal Log, let me get down to the particulars, or else start over. Which I'm not in the mood to do tonight.

The day had actually been going pretty well until Chakotay came down about his letter from Sveta. We've finally gotten all of the circuitry relay problems licked, and the power drain for Seven's personal fief is no longer causing problems with the main power system. Now that we have enough isolinear chips prepared for the Borgmetrics Lab's use, she isn't lifting any from other places where they "aren't really needed." She's actually been keeping her busy little enhanced fingertips away from the system grid's parts. And wonder of wonders, it's been working right. Funny thing about how much better a system runs when it isn't being pirated all the time! But, I'm getting off-track here again.

Anyway, when word trickled down to Engineering that our message from Starfleet had been accompanied by personal letters coming in from our families in the Alpha Quadrant, work pretty much stopped for everyone but me. It's a good thing everything on board was working right at the time. The rumor mill set the number of personal letters for the crew at anywhere from three dozen to three hundred, depending on who you talked to. Not that I expected any myself, of course. A letter from Mom would have been a major surprise. And Dad? When I haven't heard from him in over twenty years? Not likely!

I was the only one in Engineering who learned about the encrypted message Seven had detected. I wouldn't have wanted to tell anyone else about it, even if it wasn't considered classified information. There were enough "we're going to be rescued" scenarios flying around as it was, just because we had made contact with the Alpha Quadrant. I certainly wasn't about to add fuel to the fire.

Funny. I didn't even think about wanting to be rescued at the time, myself. Maybe not so funny. Tom and I are alike in that. We've got it better here. Who needs to be rescued? And I already had a hunch that maybe it wasn't going to be _all_ good news. I just had no idea how bad it was going to be.

When Chakotay came to tell me about what he'd learned from his friend Sveta, I felt blindsided. The Maquis. Gone. All our friends, dead - unless they were "fortunate" enough to have been in prison already like Sveta. The Klingon came out. I was enraged.

Afterwards came the letdown. The truth is, as the years have gone by here on _Voyager_, I thought of our colleagues in the Maquis back home less and less. A couple of times I had to stop and think about whether or not someone on _Voyager_ was a Maquis or not! Only for a few seconds, but it's true. We've become one crew. A family. Janeway's "kids." I think that's why I cried so hard, after. I hadn't spent any time thinking about everyone back in the Alpha Quadrant for so long, I felt guilty. Their lives were snuffed out while I was working on some engineering problem, or asleep in my quarters, or playing pool on the holodeck with Tom and Harry. The fight, the cause I'd adopted as my own when I'd joined Chakotay's cell - well, that was just a footnote in some history text now. If even that. The Cardies win after all. Damn the Federation.

But not damn this crew. Just because the others are Starfleet, from the Federation, I really can't bring myself to hate Harry, or Nicoletti, or Carey. We've been there for each other too often. They don't deserve it. I'm not sure how the others will feel, though. Chakotay said he was going to go to everyone individually to give them the news. Chakotay's always been good that way. I guess too good. He had plenty of practice back before the array snatched us here. But all of them gone . . . I never thought it would happen.

And then that damned message for Tom. I got so excited. I thought he was hearing from his family when I saw that, so I called him from the Bridge. I couldn't understand why he didn't seem to care, at first. He seemed more like the Tom I used to call a pig.

When I saw the message was from a Starfleet admiral, though, my heart fell a little. I had never known Tom's father's name was Owen Paris, so I assumed some Admiral Owen was sending word to him - maybe acknowledging that he was getting his commission confirmed again. "Welcome back to the 'fleet," or some such nonsense.

With that "Who cares?" attitude of Tom's, I felt like smashing him in the mouth. But I know him too well now, how he hides his heart behind that attitude. He can't get away with it anymore with me. I called him on it. I wasn't in the mood for the Tom Paris Game. I wouldn't accept his cavalier dismissal of his father's message. Little did I know.

When he still was showing me attitude, I thought the Klingon was going to come out again, so I told him what was bothering me. About the crushing of the Maquis. I almost broke down again; but he stepped up and hugged me. He _has_ changed a lot in four years, or maybe it's just that the real Tom comes out now because he's learned to trust me. His arms felt so good. I needed them to be around me. Now I think he needed that hug as much as I did. Tom knows his father better than I do, obviously.

He really wanted to get back to the bridge, so I let him go. I promised to bring his letter to him as soon as I got the rest of the message. And I really tried to get the whole message. I mean, I certainly _hope_ that wasn't the whole letter. If it was . . .

What made it worse was that the letter from Harry's parents started coming in right afterwards, all mixed up piecemeal with Tom's letter and with Joe Carey's, from his wife. Harry's parents, so unbelievably happy to hear their son was alive. They'd refused to believe Harry was dead, even after _Voyager_ was declared lost. Even when Harry's girlfriend Libby came to them and asked for their understanding when she'd married Harry's friend Danny, they hadn't given up hope. "We love you, Son. We will wait for you. If it takes sixty years, we don't care. Just knowing you're alive is enough." I can't remember it exactly, of course, but their love shone through the simple words.

I think I might have gotten a little jealous of Harry's letter, to tell the truth, if I hadn't been so angry at the message for Tom.

"Heard you're alive. You're lucky Captain Janeway is letting you fly _Voyager_. By the way, . . died a few months after hearing you were dead." I missed exactly who the person who died was. I thought it was "mother," but the message was so garbled there, I can't be sure about the exact wording of the rest of the message, because there was so much interference. But that last part that I was able to get is burned into my memory. "After hearing you were dead." Like Tom was still dead.

No, "glad you're alive, Son." No, "I love you Son." No, "Congratulations," about hitting Warp 10 (which the Doctor said he told Starfleet about). Nothing about how proud he was that Tom had turned his life around.

I saw the ending to Harry's letter. Harry's parents said how much they loved him. He should be careful and take care of himself. Then we lost the data stream, right in the middle of "Love, Mom and . . . ."

There never was a closing of any kind that I saw to Tom's letter. Did the rest of his get lost? Was there a part where the admiral said he loved Tom, that he was proud of him after all? That he missed him? That he was sorry he had to tell him his mother, or whoever it was, had died this way? The letter was so short, I keep telling myself it wasn't the entire letter. It couldn't have been. Who could just send those couple of lines to their only son, risen from the dead? I don't know why he bothered to send a letter to Tom at all, if that was the whole message.

I couldn't tell Tom that all I got for him was a message that he was lucky Janeway would let him fly _Voyager_ and that somebody died, but I can't be certain who.

So I lied. So shoot me. Maybe it was only a partial lie. Maybe the rest of the letter _was_ lost when the array shorted out. All I know is that once I'd ripped that scab off his wounded heart, I wasn't about to drive a knife through it again. I told him the message never came through.

I'll look at the downloaded information some more, of course. Maybe I can find more messages. The rest of Tom's? Ha! I don't really think so. But I make no apologies for lying, since Tom felt better afterwards. He's so fragile, really. Such a big man, so, "I don't care" on the outside, and pure mush on the inside. Very loving mush, though.

Tonight, after we made love the first time, we had a chance to discuss his family, really for the first time. Tonight I found out a lot about them. Tom described his mother, his sisters, and his Academy days with me. I found out he'd first become friends with Ro Laren when they were at the Academy together. I was fascinated, especially what he had to say about his mother. She sounds like she's a wonderful person. And of course, we talked about "dear old Dad," as he calls him, although he didn't say too much about him.

And then we chewed over whether we ever want to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. If it's overrun by the Cardies and those aliens from the Gamma Quadrant, maybe we'd be better off finding a nice little planet to settle out here - not that life is particularly safe in the Delta Quadrant, either. But we've been happy here in the Delta Quadrant, Tom and I. Maybe some of the others would prefer to go the colony route, too. The Maquis crew doesn't have a home to go back to any more than Tom and I have. A lot of them were colonists whose homes have been blasted away by the Cardassians.

And if the rumors about Janeway's letter from home are true, maybe the captain doesn't have much more to go back there for than Chakotay does. I hope so. He's got almost as big an "I'm in love" sign on him as Harry does.

Hmm. I see Tom's stirring in bed. I don't want him to hear this, so I guess I'll close now.

_End Personal Log _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51504.2**

Just got back from Neelix's party. It's what we all needed. Chakotay said the eulogy for the Maquis. Janeway led a moment of silence. She didn't have to do it, but it was a nice gesture. I could see the Maquis on board all appreciated it.

Everyone seemed a little more relaxed today about our setback. It's not like we haven't had the route home stolen away from us before. We're almost getting used to it. Like Neelix's food. His spread wasn't bad. I think I'm even getting used to leola root. I'm not saying I _like_ it, but I'm getting to the point where I can eat it without complaining. Much. And Harry made a special request for Pleeka Rind Casserole to be served. Tom said he's just trying to get on Neelix's good side so Neelix will make Harry some really nice pizza. I think it's some kind of macho thing - showing off for Seven about what a strong stomach he's got.

No, I shouldn't say that. It's not fair. I guess I _am_ jealous about Harry getting a real letter from home.

It was fun to tease "Grampa" Tuvok about his granddaughter, but it was nice, too. Everyone had a good time, I think. Not as good a time as Tom and I had when we got back from the party, of course, but it was good. After struggling all day with trying to decrypt that Starfleet code, it was nice to give my brain a rest. I had to help Harry - just to make sure I hadn't missed any of Tom's message the other day. I'm sorry to say I didn't.

And if there was a plan to get us home in that coded message, I sure hope Janeway understood it. I couldn't figure it out at all.

I'm pretty tired. We had to check the whole ship over thoroughly, to make sure there was no damage from the strain caused by the singularity. Fortunately, nothing major turned up.

Now that we've managed to stun one of the Hirogen, kill some others, and we've destroyed their communications network, I have this really strong hunch that _Voyager_ is going to need to be in top condition in the near future. Just a feeling!

I'm going to crawl back into bed next to Tom - maybe wake him up. I need to feel those long arms of his around me again. Another hug, a big one. A hug that lasts all night long.

We both need it, even if he doesn't why.

_End Personal Log _

* * *

**General Disclaimer:** _Voyager_ and its crew are Paramount's possessions, including the storyline of "Hunters." I'm just adding a little I think they must have accidentally left out. Thanks, Kim, for getting me to take the time to write this down. (Originally published on ASC in 2/1998)


	3. Log Entries Addenda (3)

**Log Entries: The B'Elanna Torres Logs **

**(Personal Logs of _Voyager's_ Chief Engineer's Personal Logs)**

**by J. A. Toner (a.k.a. Jamelia)**

* * *

**Log Entries 3: Addenda**

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51748.2**

This is the first entry in my personal log for quite a while, thanks to the Hirogen. I've been so busy fixing the damage they caused to the ship, after they turned _Voyager_ into their personal playground, I haven't had time to record my thoughts in my personal log. I've just worked, slept, and eaten - the latter two with Tom occasionally, but not often enough.

sigh Maybe that's the reason I feel so strange. Strange. Right. That doesn't come close to saying how I actually feel. I don't feel much at all. I don't like to think too much, either. When Tom isn't around, I fall into bed and sleep as long as I can - as long as the dreams don't come . . .

Death. Destruction. When those dreams come, I can't sleep.

I see my friends in the Maquis. All dead - or almost all of them, at any rate. I don't know if that World War II simulation is part of that. There was plenty of death and destruction there, and Tom told me the word "Maquis" was borrowed from a group of French Resistance fighters during that war on Earth. Maybe that's the connection to my dreams.

Even though the Hirogen had us on the holodeck for the war simulations, now that it's fixed, I'm finding myself going back there from time to time, trying to lift my spirits with holoprograms. Going to the holodeck helps sometimes, but not much. Maybe if I went to the holodeck with Tom, it would be better, but he's off doing his own thing in there all the time. He's not letting me know what he's up to in there.

I guess he's decided I'm not such good company for him anymore.

I just wish I could shake this feeling I've got that everything is turning sour for us. Turning sour for me, period.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51776.8**

I wanted to tear that bastard into little bits and scatter them all over the floor. I'd like to have smashed him until he was nothing more than tiny smears of blood and bone. How dare that creep Steth take over Tom's body, and then do the things he did with me! When I think of it, I get so angry. I should have known.

Tom's been acting so distant lately. He spends almost all his spare time on the holodeck without me, missing dates, doing only as much as he has to.

The Doctor even called us the other day in the middle of dinner (one he actually showed up for) to complain about him not following through on his medical training. When I asked what was up, Tom said, "I don't know." And he seemed sincere. He really didn't seem to know what was happening with him. I should have called him on it, I guess, but I've been feeling so out of it lately, too. So I didn't.

I'd like to think that was why it never occurred to me Tom wasn't "himself" when I found him practicing putting in my quarters. He was _supposed_ to be working in sickbay. When he started to cozy up next to me, I was so glad we were actually going to share some affection, I quelled that little red alert klaxon blaring in my skull. I mean, let's face it, Tom can be pretty smarmy sometimes - not that I don't love all those double entendres he makes, in that low-pitched, sexy voice of his. I haven't been hearing them enough lately. Maybe that's one reason I've been feeling so listless lately. But this Tom was just so . . . how do I say it? Smooth. That's it. I've never seen Tom act quite that way before.

Still, when he said, "I love you," to me - and we weren't in the middle of having sex - I was so pleased, I wouldn't have believed it wasn't my Tom talking even if he told me right then and there. I should have known.

But I didn't.

And then we did it.

It makes my skin crawl, now, just to think of that creep putting his hands on me. And . . . but at the time, all I remember feeling was kind of empty. I was satisfied, sure, but . . .

How do I say this? It isn't easy to put into words, but I'll try.

There's one the thing I know about Tom now that I didn't know before we became lovers. Didn't know? Could never imagine, is more like it. He might come off as the kind of guy who only wants one thing, but he isn't. Well, wait, he does _want_ it. He's pretty much always up for whatever bedtime fun you want (or out of the bed, for that matter). But he's not the way some people, like Sue Nicoletti, say he is - only interested in his own pleasure.

Yeah, Tom wants to be satisfied, sure, but he's told me many times that if he hasn't made me just as happy, it isn't as good for him. I believe him. He really doesn't seem to be happy unless he knows I'm satisfied. I've seen how he gets when I don't get there the way he expects - and that one time I never got there at all - well. He got all down in the dumps, apologizing half the night until we did it again and he could get me to where we both wanted me to be. He was yelling, "yes, finally!" when he knew I was okay. And he just kept it up until I was exhausted and had to say, "Enough, already!"

This Tom got me there, but he didn't seem to care all that much that he did. He was only interested in himself. The little touches, those little looks, the finesse - all those things that make me feel good just weren't there. It was like his mind was back in the Alpha Quadrant, even though his body was most definitely here. It was so strange. But I've been feeling strange lately anyway. Kind of dead. So I thought it was just me.

When he insulted me in the transporter room? When I refused to cut out of my responsibilities to skip off on an unauthorized shore leave? I don't know why, but it wasn't a surprise. It was almost like I expected to hear him say he didn't know what he'd ever seen in me. For a long time, I've wondered what he could possibly be thinking, to be with me. I must have been down when he said it, because I know now I should have slugged him for talking to me that way.

But I didn't. I didn't feel like slugging him. I don't know why, but I just accepted it.

And then we found out, when Steth, or whatever his/her name really is, took over Janeway and stole the shuttle. It hadn't been Tom at all. He was locked up in that other body, helpless to do anything to change things, until Steth was in the shuttle and Tom could set things right. I should have been furious, because I think, somehow, I _did_ know it wasn't really Tom; but, as Tom says, how could I have possibly realized that another mind had been in Tom's body? Who could have anticipated such a thing was even possible? Even here, in the Weird Quadrant.

I felt dirty and unclean from Steth's having sex with me. Dishonored. But what am I supposed to do to "satisfy honor?" Beat up Tom, now that he's back and himself again? I couldn't very well beat up that other creature Steth went back into. After all, she's apparently as much a victim of this as anyone. Who knows how far this goes back? I was just as helpless as Tom had been, because there was no one I could slam on the ground.

Tom did his best to make it up to me. He finally showed me the holodeck program that's been consuming so much of his time. "Grease Monkey." Deep down in his soul, that pilot is just itching to be an engineer. He just doesn't see it.

He _did_ admit he had been shutting me out, spending time there when he should have been spending it with me. That was . . . sweet. It was sweeter still when he invited me inside that old Camaro and we "made out." We started out in the front seat, but it was really tight quarters in there. This stick thing kept getting in our way. So, we moved to the back seat, so he could "polish my headlights and rev my engines." I love it when he talks like that. We had a good time, and for a while, I felt better.

Tonight, though, I'm feeling down again. I don't know why I can't seem to get out of this funk I'm in. When I'm around Tom, it's okay. When I'm working, it's okay. But at times like this, when I'm hanging around here and Tom's on bridge duty, it's . . . it's not okay, and I can't figure out what I should do.

That's not really true, though. When I'm on the holodeck, I don't worry about it so much. But the holodeck is so . . . so sanitized. There's no real challenge to it. No test. No real risk, with the safeties on. Maybe if I picked a few programs I knew I could handle, I could take the safeties off line. Slam a few Cardies around, or something. Maybe then I could really test myself, find out what's in my heart. Assuming I've still got one.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51854.2**

How could I say no? With "Tom" looking at me that way, begging me to stay with him? Telling me he didn't want to live without me? The real Tom hasn't ever gotten around to saying anything like that to me yet - who knows if he ever will?

This was a clone of him, exactly like Tom in every detail. Except for the biochemistry. That was all Demon-class poison. So, does that mean "my" Tom really thinks of me that way, too? If he does, why doesn't the jerk say it? Or is it me? Can he see the empty shell I've been lately? Maybe that's why he can't say he loves me except when we're making love.

My Tom was still out cold, being treated by the Doctor to counteract all the Demon planet toxins that had almost killed him. Even though I was so angry about what had happened to my Tom that I didn't want to, I said yes. I'd allow myself to be cloned. After all, it wasn't this Clone Tom's fault. He didn't do anything intentional to trap Tom and be begotten/created/born - whatever it is that you call it when a clone is made like this.

And he was grateful, because then he wouldn't be alone on this godforsaken planet when _Voyager_ left. Most of the crew was cloned and would be going e there, but the Clone Tom said it wouldn't matter. If I weren't there, he'd be alone.

When _Voyager_ lifted off today, after all the deuterium we could store had been loaded onto the ship, I imagined the two of them, standing out in the open on Demon, watching _Voyager_ disappear into the sky. Later, I had a chance to see the visual log made with the enhanced sensors in Astrometrics. They had been standing there, pretty much like I'd thought. The two of them were next to the cloned Harry and Seven. Clone Tom was behind Clone B'Elanna, his arms wrapped around her. His face was buried in her hair.

I guess I should be happy. In a way, I finally got home. It may not look like much. It was an awful place, truthfully. But, to them, it's home. They aren't going anywhere any time soon, that's for sure.

I wonder if that Tom will be able to tell his B'Elanna he loves her?

I hope they'll be happy.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51986.9**

I hate to admit it, but I understand why Seven wanted to be put off _Voyager_ when it looked like we might be able to get home to the Alpha Quadrant. That isn't home to her.

Maybe it's not home to the rest of us, either. What does Tom have to go home for? Me? All my friends are gone. My mother could care less about me. My father, too. I didn't notice either of them trying to send me a message when we were in contact with that Array in Hirogen space. Maybe it got lost in transmission.

Right.

Like Tom's got lost in transmission? Could Neelix and Seven have decided not to let me see a message, the way I "lost" what we'd retrieved of Tom's?

It's not that I would mind facing up to whatever Starfleet was going to throw at us. It would be better than worrying about what would happen. But the more I think of it, the more I realize I'd rather we just kept on the way we're going. We'll get there sometime. What's the rush?

Actually, with all of the new technologies we've been discovering - folded space, slipstream, transwarp conduits - one of them should come through for us, someday. Maybe if we can figure out how one of them works, when we get back home, Starfleet will be so grateful to us they'll not only let us go, but we'll be able to bargain for the release of Sveta and all the other Maquis that are in prison.

Yeah. Sure.

Maybe Seven's got it right. We should just find a nice planet and stay here.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51997.1**

Gods, this is an awful place. All this blackness. No, that's not quite right. Black means the absence of light. This is the absence of anything - except theta radiation. That we've got plenty of here this Void.

The Demon planet was a miserable excuse for a world. And the poison nebula, where we had to go into stasis, with only the EMH and Seven to get us through, was really bad. I _hated_ giving over my engines to Borgwoman while I took a month-long nap. I never expected to wake up. And with Tom constantly fighting his way out of his capsule because of his claustrophobia, it must've been just as bad for him. He won't talk about it, and I'm not pushing him. He'll only push me about being edgy, and I don't want to talk about it. To anyone. Even Tom.

Since we got into this Void, Tom's been trying to cheer me up. Not much seems to help. He's suggested maybe we could use Seven's Borg technology to build a new shuttle, one better suited to the Delta Quadrant than the Starfleet ones. We'd be combining our skills in engineering and piloting. Harry's and Seven's skills, too.

It's not that I can't work with Seven on a professional basis. Actually, we seem to be able to work okay with them now that Harry isn't quite so star struck around Seven. After she "demoted" him to lesser Drone status during the Omega crisis, that puppy love thing started to go away. And, after being alone going through that nebula, Seven isn't quite the same, either. Maybe she's feeling what I'm feeling - alone, adrift. Even when Tom's holding me, I get that way. I don't feel anything so much of the time. Just about the only time I can feel anything anymore is when Tom makes love to me, and even then, it has to be so Klingon-wild that I can't think about anything else except about how wild it is.

Rough, frantic sex. Klingon sex. It's the only way I'm satisfied anymore. Thrown objects and bites and pain. Tom looks at me like I'm crazy when I ask him to use pain sticks on me. I make a joke about it: "You always wanted to see my Klingon side, didn't you, Mister?" So he does it, every now and then, but I know he isn't very happy about it. I don't care. At least then, I can feel something. Pain is better than nothingness.

Anyway, Seven's almost - bearable. Sometimes. Not that I would ever let her know that. But I know we can get her to cooperate on technical matters once we convince the captain to let us build our own shuttle.

I wish I could get myself really involved in this project, the way I have in the past on others, like the Warp 10 fiasco. It just doesn't feel like it would be any use. I don't think we'll never get out of this Void anyway, so why bother?

This place is just another trap - without even one tiny star to steer by.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52009.4**

I hate games. I can't stand this new holodeck program he's trying to get me to play. Captain Electron, or Proton, or Protein, or whatever. It's "fun," he says. I'm not interested in fun.

I want a challenge. I want to pit myself against whatever the universe can throw at me, even if this stinking Void isn't letting me do anything real. The holodecks are the place to escape, Tom's right about that. But his insipid little program just won't cut it.

Climbing Mount Everest or Mount KrI'telth. Cliff diving. Using a mace and spear. Hand to hand combat. Bat'leths at the ready. That's what keeps my interest.

Tom's the one who wanted me to explore my Klingon side. Now he's afraid of it. At least he doesn't complain about using the pain sticks on me anymore. He just goes along with it. He gets his sex, which is all I'm good for. What does he really see in me anyway? What Steth said to me, when he was in Tom's body, was the truth. All I have to do is look in the mirror, and then at him, and I know. He just isn't honest enough to say it to me. I'm a good lay, so he's sticking with me.

I don't think he misses the dermal regenerator I took from the field medic kit in his quarters. He hasn't said anything about it. I mean, who's getting hurt in here, playing at checkers or silly science fiction farces? There's nothing. Nothing out there. Nothing in here. Blackness, wherever you look. Inside. Outside.

We'll never get to the other side.

But at least I'm going to get laid, regularly, until it's all over. As long as I don't have to talk, it's okay.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52048.3**

This Void is maddening. I'm not the only one who's saying it. If only I had more rations for the holodeck, I'd feel better, but no. I don't have enough to do my programs as often as I need to. And Tom with that Dr. Chaotica garbage - you'll never catch me in there.

I'm not the only one who feels it. I haven't seen the captain in over a month. Whenever I check in, it's Chakotay on the bridge. The captain doesn't even hide out in her ready room anymore, like she did the first couple of weeks. Now, she's in her quarters all the time.

I go to my duty shifts, at least.

But she knows. The captain knows. It's over. We're all going to die here. This is our final destination. Our prison. Eternal night, in the Void.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52084.9**

I can't believe we're out of the Void. Janeway came alive just in time to help us blow our way through those putrid, murdering aliens. Dumping their radioactive garbage into the home of another race because it was cheaper! I wanted to throw Emck into the warp core. I might have, if all the theta radiation in his body wouldn't have contaminated engineering.

I thought, once we got out of there, it would be better. I still don't feel like myself any more. I thought getting out of the Void would make a difference. It hasn't.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52101.3**

It's getting harder and harder to get through each day. I thought the bleakness of the Void was the reason I was on edge, but we've been out of it for a couple of weeks, and I'm no better. I can't seem to feel alive doing anything. Not that it matters. We're all dying off here, one by one. Sometimes more than one at a time, what with lovely races like the Hirogen to make us feel so at home. The list goes on and on. Kurt. Hogan. Bennett. Darwin. Pete Durst. Kes. I can't even remember all of them now off hand, but the list just keeps getting longer and longer.

And now, One. If only the Borgette we still have on board was as helpful as he was! What a mind! What a loss! Everyone on the ship is mourning him. I think Seven is even feeling something. Me? I've tried. Nothing.

The Delta Quadrant will claim us all. It's only a matter of time.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52111.1**

We're building that shuttle Tom wanted to build. Seven and Harry and him and me. It's an okay ship. I think it will work. Seven's doing a decent job. I've got enough on my mind that I don't care if she does a little real work for a change.

When I delivered those thruster specs to him last night, Tom wanted me to stay in his quarters for dinner. I said, "no." Actually, I don't think I said anything. I pushed his hands away. He just wanted to get me in bed after dinner, I know that. And I didn't want to. He's refusing to use the pain sticks anymore. Doesn't he see that I can't feel anything otherwise? And why bother anyway, just for a few seconds of feeling something?

I went to Neelix later on. He replicated me some banana pancakes, like Grandmother Torres made me on her visits to Kessik. I almost felt something when I tasted them, but it was regret. Even they don't taste any good to me anymore.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52114.4**

I invited him for dinner tonight. My quarters. Banana pancakes.

When he came to my door, the look in his eyes was so - hesitant - I didn't know what to say for a moment. I knew I needed to talk to him about what's been going on with me, but how could I begin?

He knows about the programs. All of them. About the injuries. About my lying to him. He knows about the dermal regenerator and osteoregenerator I stole. About how I betrayed his trust. And he didn't say one word about it. When I tried to talk about it all, he shushed me. All he did was hold me, for a long time. Gently, almost like he was afraid I would break.

I finally felt something again, all right. Humiliation. I felt bad, really bad, about the way I'd been treating him.

I think the worst part is knowing he thinks I was only using him for sex for all those months in between my trips to the holodeck. And there were a lot of trips to the holodeck. I didn't record very many of them here in my log. The less of a trail, the better, I knew that, even then.

And I must admit, yes, it's partially true. Maybe I was using him for sex. I felt _something_ when we were - copulating. That's the word. Seven's word for doing it. I can't say we were making love, and I don't want to say it was just having sex, because that isn't all it was to him. He _was_ making love to me, even if I was just "doing it." He wanted to bring me joy. If I had been capable of being happy when we were doing it, he would have. Kahless, it wasn't Tom's fault. It was me; I know that. I hope he does, too.

But I had to apologize to him somehow, and when he didn't want to talk about it, I was in despair. I told him we just had to talk.

When he suggested the holodeck, I looked at him like _he_ was crazy. After all the things I'd been doing on the holodeck, why would he want to bring me there?

You know, he was right. And he picked the perfect program, too. No dangerous, safeties-off holodeck program. No stupid Captain Protein. It was the "Grease Monkey" program. Just Tom and me, working on his car until our hands were all smeared up and gooey. Good thing it was holographic grease, because when the car was humming the way it should, he switched programs to the "Car Parked on Mars" program. The garage and everything else disappeared except for the Camaro we'd been working on, perched on that hill on Mars.

He opened the door for me with one of those exaggerated flourishes he does, and then he climbed into the back seat with me and began kissing me all over. It was a while before he let me get a word in edgewise. My mouth was too full of his mouth. When I was able to talk, I told him how sorry I was about not letting him in. How I didn't let him know how bad I'd been feeling when we were in the Void. All he said was, "It's okay, B'Elanna," and began to kiss me again.

We didn't "go all the way." That's the way they used to talk, he said, back when the Camaro was new. "All the way" was to have actual intercourse. No, it was just kissing, hugging, and petting. A whole lot of petting and kissing, all over my body, and his too, when he gave me a chance to do to him what he'd been doing to me.

You know, it's funny, but I was more satisfied tonight than I'd been all those months when we were having all that hard, driving sex - with or without the pain sticks.

That look in his eyes, when he was touching me - oh, yes. I hope I'll remember that look until the day I die. Happy and proud I was smiling for him again. That he was finally making me happy again.

I'm not saying I felt much like smiling for myself; but for him, yes, I did. I can remember now how he was trying so hard to get me to open up to him. I pushed him away. I was a coward.

It's still going to be a struggle. The Doctor told me that when he put me on some kind of medication. He says it will help, in the long run. I don't know about that. We'll see. I don't think "happy medication" is the Klingon Way, exactly. Tom was there, though, and since Mr. Klingon Cultural Traditions kept his mouth shut about the medication. I did, too.

The funny thing is, when he was smiling at me tonight, when we were touching each other, I suddenly remembered. It had been a very long time since I'd seen Tom do much in the way of smiling. How come I didn't see that before?

Maybe I was too busy handing him the pain sticks to notice.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52145.6**

I listened to Tom's final message to me today. It's not that he's dead. We rescued him, and Tuvok and Samantha, too. When I was going over the _Delta Flyer _to identify the repairs it needed, after we'd recovered them safely, I found his message. I know I'm not supposed to listen to it when he's still alive, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. I had to know if he was thinking of me when he thought it was all over. I copied the message into my tricorder. After my shift was over, I brought it back to my quarters to listen to. And . . . I . . . well. I'm not copying all of it here in my log, but I don't think I'm erasing it from my tricorder, either. I may want to listen to it again.

Who knows. Maybe next time he won't have time to record a message, and this will be the only one I'll ever have from him.

In the beginning, he was really apologetic. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna, that it's going to end this way. I wanted so much more for you. Please, don't get down. I wouldn't want that to happen again. Blah, blah, blah." Pretty much berating himself for leaving me. I think he was worried about me sinking into a deep depression again, when I was just getting out of the one I've been in. I'm not sure he isn't right about that, either. I hated feeling so frightened, so helpless, the whole time they were missing. I was barking at everyone in engineering. Joe Carey and Vorik both said something to me about it, once we were all safe on the ship again - how they were afraid I was going to crumble again, if Tom was really gone.

That's not The Klingon Way, of course. Being depressed isn't the Way of the Warrior, is it? At least, you're not supposed to admit to ever being depressed. Taking charge and rescuing them is The Klingon Way.

I'm glad Tom and the others were saved. I have to face up to the fact I'm still recovering from a serious depression. If he had died, I _don't_ know how I would have reacted. Thank God I didn't have to find out - this time.

His message, though. It was really . . . sweet. So solicitous of me. He never said, "I love you," but he did say, "You know what I told you, B'Elanna? Out in space, on the Day of Honor? That time, we were rescued, so you weren't the last thing I saw. You mean more to me than my own life, so I'm glad you're going to go on living. But I'm sorry that this time, you won't be the last thing I'll see." I think I can take that to mean he's feeling what I think he is.

Then it was back to the usual: to Tom cracking jokes to avoid letting anyone know his heart was breaking. About how the computer was jealous he was spending his last few minutes of living talking to me. About how I wouldn't have to worry about day-old pizza around my quarters or watching junky 2D movies with him anymore.

You know, he's right. I probably couldn't have ever brought myself to watch any of those old movies he loves if he'd died. I'd have hated pizza, too; and I've developed quite a taste for the stuff lately. Even those cold leftovers he's always leaving around. And his jokes. God, would I have missed his jokes! I wonder if I would have hated anybody joking with me, if . . . no. I hope I could have still joked around. Eventually. But it wouldn't have been easy, not for a very long time.

When Janeway asked me for my report on the condition of the shuttle and mentioned the final messages, I told her they'd been accidentally erased. I don't know if she believed me. Tuvok hadn't left a recorded message, and I don't think Sam would want Naomi to run into her last message accidentally, anyway. It's better this way.

I'm glad I saw Tom's. From that message, I know how much he cares. Even if he is too damned stubborn to say it to my face - while he's still alive.

_End personal log_.

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52166.7**

I'm mortified I accused Tom of putting Seven up to the Klingon warrior thing. I mean, sure, it's something that Tom might do, the way he's been trying to introduce Seven to "playing" and "joking around" lately. But he didn't do it.

I was sorry I'd gotten upset with Seven, too, after I knew the truth. It's eerie to think that she had a whole bunch of people she'd personally destroyed running around in her brain. Well, maybe that's not completely fair, either. At the time she'd assimilated them, she'd been destroyed as an individual herself. It wasn't as if she'd had any choice in the matter. They certainly got their revenge, "possessing" her like that.

I'm glad we were able to save her. Not that we're good buddies now, or anything, but I have to admit, Seven has been different lately - and not only when she's in the middle of being possessed by the memories of people whose bodies probably turned into dust long ago. It's since One was lost. That's when I noticed the change in her.

One was her son, in a way - a twenty-ninth century Borg created literally overnight from her nanoprobes and DNA from Seven and Mulcahy. Tom and Harry say she was really devastated when One sacrificed himself. He realized the Borg would prey upon us to get at his advanced technology, once they'd found out he existed. He wouldn't let that happen.

So, maybe it's not surprising she's paying attention to Naomi now. Seven's learning to play. She _is_ like a little kid in some ways, but it's not only that. Having One made her think about what it means to be a child, sure; but I think it also made her wonder about what it means to be a mother. And hearing all those voices in her head, some of them children, according to the Doctor, must have made an impression on her.

She told One that the people of _Voyager_, were "her Collective" now. When I first heard that, I didn't think much of it. But the way she's started helping Naomi with her star charts, I guess maybe she does feel that way. We are her Collective. Or maybe a better way to say it is, we're her family now.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52172.3**

She had the nerve to come in to talk to me tonight. She wants me to get over my anger. Hey - nothing to it! Who cares if a butcher's experiments saved my life?

Is my life a good trade for a hundred Bajorans, tortured painfully so this knowledge could be gained? I don't think so. Sorry. How about a thousand? Ten thousand?

Nobody really knows how many people were murdered for Crell Moset to gain this medical knowledge. But I'm the precious chief engineer of _Voyager_, and maybe the ship doesn't get home without me. So it doesn't matter what my opinions are. B'Elanna, you're saved. Too bad about your principles. What the captain says, goes. Your life gets saved so you can keep _Voyager_ pieced together and get everybody home. Just forget about all the Bajoran blood on the hands of the doctor who saved you.

Easy for her to say.

The Cardassians have a lot to answer for, but that fiend of a doctor has got to be pretty high on the list for the people who deserve retribution. At least our Doctor realized it afterwards and deleted Moset - but not until after the damage was done.

I thought Janeway would understand. She's been captured by the Cardies herself. If anyone should know why I feel that way about them, she should! She didn't.

It's not that I'm bitter about Tom getting her to save me. I understand what was going on his head. He admitted it to me when he came here to have dinner with me tonight. He knows how selfish he was, because he knew what I would have wanted. But when he thought about how it would be to go on without me when there was a way to save me, he had to speak up. And he said he was afraid that maybe I didn't want to be saved because I was still suffering from depression. He knows that's a rationalization, but he clung to the idea anyway. It made it easier for him to argue for me with the captain.

The captain didn't have to listen to Tom when he begged her to order me to be treated. Tom obeys her orders. He doesn't get insolent to her when she tells him what he has to do. He owes her, and he knows it. She could have made him do the right thing, even though it might have hurt him to lose me.

Really, I do understand him, maybe better than he knows. His heart was speaking there, even if his mouth isn't too good at forming the words I want to hear. So I'll get over Tom the Selfish Pig's going against my wishes.

But Janeway, no. I don't understand her. I thought she understood me better than that.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52189.2**

Arrested. That foolhardy, impulsive, good-hearted, brave idiot! Pulling a stunt like that! I know he's got a hero complex. He's always off saving _Voyager_ when he gets the chance. But to defy a direct order from the captain!

I realize he's got special feelings for the sea - it's just about his favorite pillow talk. I'd never have even met him if his father hadn't kept him from his first love, serving in the Earth navy. No wonder he was so happy seeing that world made entirely of water - I never did find out if they called it "Monea," or if the Monean race carried that name from wherever they came from. They were nomads, and for all that sanctimonious talk about "brine in the veins," I don't think they cared as much as they claimed about the planet. If they did, they would have taken the data and technology we offered and put it into effect immediately. Janeway was giving them a way to buy the time they needed to save themselves! Forget the Prime Directive. Our Captain Janeway has no problem breaking it herself when she feels like it, but if anybody else like Tom does it, she's all over them.

The Moneans aren't the only beings living on that world. The other creatures swimming in those seas must have been indigenous to the planet the sea world was created from. Their lives have value, too. They were the ones we should have considered the true dwellers of that world. The eel creature Tom, Harry and Seven saw - for all we know, he's the descendent of the ones who made it. He - or she - might even have been their leader! But whether they were sentient or not, they mattered. Their lives are all forfeit if the water world boils off into space because of the Monean's stupidity. The Moneans can just jump into their ships and go off to find someplace else. Those sea creatures can't.

"Brine in the veins." From what I saw, Tom has more in his than the Moneans do - more than Burkus does, certainly.

Well, maybe I can't say that about Riga. I don't know what's going to happen to him. I hope they aren't going to execute him for what Tom and Riga did. The worst thing is, we don't even know what's happened to him. Janeway was able to recover the _Delta Flyer_ and Tom, but when the Moneans demanded Riga's return, she gave him back. He wanted to go back, in fact. He said that no matter what happened to him, he had to go back to "give testimony," because no one else would tell the truth now unless he did.

He's such a mild-mannered, unassuming little man. Riga doesn't look like the hero type, the way Tom does, but he is one. He was willing for today to be his "good day to die."

But it was a stupid stunt. Trying to blow up a factory - what were they thinking?

When I told him that maybe Tom Paris should go to the rescue instead of Captain Proton, I expected him to make some kind of gesture, to make sure that Burkus couldn't sweep the issue under the rug. Shooting up a factory is not a good way to make Janeway feel lenient towards Tom, even if they failed to do any major damage to the factory. Just a few minor leaks, quickly repaired. Harry told me it's lucky Tom wasn't killed. Janeway was ready to blast the _Delta Flyer_ if that missile did get through. I wouldn't be surprised if she was hoping to blow Tom up, since he had the nerve to defy her.

sigh Tom was wrong. I don't mean to make it sound like he wasn't. He defied a direct order, and whether he agreed with it or not, he had to obey it. Even if Janeway should have done more when Burkus was being such a jerk about burying that report.

And I was wrong, too, to say anything at all to him about coming to the rescue. I know what being a hero means to Tom. Maybe I should admit what I said to Tom to Janeway. I should take responsibility for encouraging him to break the Prime Directive, even if it does mean I'd have to talk to Janeway, which I don't feel much like doing at the moment. I don't know what's happened to her. I can barely be civil to her lately.

No, not Janeway. I'll go to Tuvok. I can't stand being around her any more than I have to; she's gotten really hard-assed. Forces me to live when I didn't want to. And now, maybe she's going to want to force me to live without Tom.

If she puts him off the ship, I'm going, too. I don't care if they can't get the ship to the Alpha Quadrant without me. I'm staying with Tom.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52190.7**

Well, it wasn't being put off the ship, at least. He isn't being banished from _Voyager_.

There were some who said that might happen. Maybe a couple of Starfleet types who never liked Tom wanted it to happen. I'm not sure. Harry wouldn't tell me who, when he and Seven were holding me together in the mess hall, afterwards.

The two of them wouldn't let me try to claim responsibility for what Tom did. Seven said it wouldn't help Tom - that nothing I said could possibly be construed as encouraging him to act as he did.

The word from Tuvok, when I did get to speak to him about Tom, was that he wasn't punished for breaking the Prime Directive, the way I thought he was. It was for defying the captain's direct orders. I can't argue with that; he did defy her orders. Harry told me. He was there on the bridge. I certainly never told him to do that.

The wait in the hall was excruciating, though. Tuvok wouldn't let me talk to Tom before his lieutenancy was ripped away from him. Captain's orders. I started to run after Tom when he came by after being sentenced, but from the look on his face, I knew it wasn't a good idea to talk to him. He had that mask on his face - and his back was ramrod straight.

But I know the man now. His heart was breaking, probably as much because of worry about Riga and not knowing if what they'd tried to do would make a difference to that sea world. And I know how he feels about the captain. He often talks about how much he owes her. It must have just about killed him to defy her order.

If only I could have had one minute alone with him, to talk to him, to comfort him. But I won't have a chance to, not for a month. Ensign Thomas Paris is in solitary confinement for the next thirty days.

For a long time, I didn't feel much of anything. I'm over that. I'm painfully lonely already.

It's going to be a very long thirty days for me, but not as long as it's going to be for him.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52208.7**

I've been working as hard as I can, getting the ship's systems in shape. It keeps my mind occupied and my hands busy. When Tom's sentence is over, everything is going to be in perfect working order so we don't get interrupted, if I have anything to say about it. I've got other plans for keeping my hands busy when he gets out of the brig.

If I've been climbing the walls, what's it been like for Tom? Mr. Social Director?

At meetings, I've spoken to Janeway when I've had to. About business, nothing else. I don't care if she was right about stripping Tom's rank or putting him in the brig. After all that Tom's done for this ship, putting him on a "basic nutrition diet" of leola root is petty. I told Neelix that, and he didn't disagree; but if the captain wanted to make her point about everyone obeying her to the letter, she's obviously made it. Neelix hasn't snuck anything worth eating onto Tom's tray. I've tried to get him to bring him some pizza - just once, even - but he won't.

The cost to the captain has been high, though. I'm not the only one in the crew who's noticed. Most of the Maquis have frozen her out. Janeway looks like hell. From the circles under eyes, I doubt she's been sleeping much. She looks the way she did when we were in the Void. She's isolating herself from almost everyone, too. Chakotay and Tuvok are the only ones who see much of her. She's only on the bridge when she must be.

I have no intentions of wasting my time talking to Janeway. I feel sad about the gulf between us. I've always respected her. She always seemed like she wanted to be the mother of the crew, not just the captain. But now, I can't help it. I'm still angry Janeway is treating Tom so much more harshly than she has other people, even me, when I broke the Prime Directive. It's almost like she's taken what Tom did personally.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52211.4**

Harry saw Tom.

I might be able to, too, if I'd grovel to Janeway the way Harry did. I won't give her the satisfaction, no matter how lonely I am. I also won't give her the chance to say "no" to a "conjugal visit." Megan Delaney had the nerve to tell me to ask for one!

Well, maybe Megan meant well. It was one of the few times I'd taken a meal in the mess hall. Before suggesting the conjugal visit, she asked how I was doing. Everyone keeps asking me that. How the hell do they think I'm doing? I miss Tom!

Harry said he asked about me. Tom misses me, too.

He said he's been thinking a lot about things. About his father, apparently, because he started a letter to him. Harry said he's trying not to think about a lot of things, too. I hope I'm not in that category. I doubt it. He's probably "not thinking" about Janeway.

Speaking of nerve, Janeway pumped Harry about how Tom was when Harry came back. She could go speak to Tom herself, if she wanted. She could give herself permission without having to grovel to anyone.

Two more weeks.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52225.5**

One thing I can say: I've had lots of time lately to catch up on my reading. Technical manuals and treatises, of course, that goes without saying, but I've also dipped into a bunch of novels. Klingon romances, human fiction, and so on. The human ones had twentieth century settings, mostly. Some were futuristic fantasy novels written in the twentieth century. Jules Verne, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Arthur Clarke, Anne McCaffrey, Ursula LeGuin - even after all this time, they're a good read. The science in them is ludicrous, of course. Instantaneous communication by "ansible" is feasible, but faster than light travel isn't? But I can't deny the power of the stories.

Harry's directed me to some video "movies" and "serials" that Tom based the Captain Proton program on, and I've been watching them, too. A few of them have been fun, and a couple were actually thought-provoking. They help pass the time. I'm beginning to see why Tom loves them so much.

I may as well do my research. It would be nice to know what he's talking about when he gets out, every now and then, at least.

Seven has been quite helpful lately. More cooperative about tasks, no problem at all with chain of command issues, asking for clearances from engineering before undertaking any kind of repair or upgrade to Astrometrics. She's been more sociable, too.

She surprised me by asking to join me for dinner when she saw me getting my dinner tray in the mess hall tonight. I don't remember her ever doing that before, unless Harry or Tom had put her up to it. We had quite a "stimulating" discussion - to use Seven's words when we said good-bye. We spoke about engineering problems, of course, but we shared some "girl talk," too. My words to her when we said good-bye.

She has some very interesting views on individuality and relationships. Maybe Harry's giving up on Seven to pursue Megan Delaney is a bit premature. His name seems to come up an awful lot in Seven's conversations. I must admit, however, that she's got a lot of maturing to do before she'll be ready for a love affair with Harry - or anyone else, for that matter.

Her manners have improved some, too. At least, when she was talking to me, she wasn't being obnoxious. I couldn't resist asking her about it. It seems she's been having some "illuminating" discussions - with Naomi Wildman - about social skills! I think it's the only time I've really laughed in the last few weeks, since Tom landed in the brig.

Everything is certainly screwed up around here. A three-year old is teaching a Borg how to behave - and I'm closer to the resident Borg than I am to the captain. Who would ever have thought it?

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52230.5**

The shift schedule came out today. For the first time in a month, Tom's name is on it. Gamma shift, six days straight. I went to see Chakotay. Tom will be on Gamma shift for at least the next month - captain's orders - with a few doubles thrown in just for laughs.

I put in a special request to adjust the engineering schedule. Chakotay went along with it. He understood.

Three more days until Tom is out. I never knew how bad I could want anyone, but now I do. I've missed him so much.

_End personal log. _

* * *

**Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 52235.3**

I woke up early from my nap to get ready for my shift. Tuvok was going to the brig to release Tom at 2100 so he could start his shift by 2200. Apparently Janeway wanted him off the bridge before she came on at 0700. That was fine with me.

At 2143, I contacted Tom, just before he was due to go to the bridge. "Rumor has it you're free for dinner. My quarters, 0700. That's an _order_, Ensign." He said, "Yes, ma'am," in that same, cheeky way he does when he says it on the bridge. I could just imagine his face, the way he would look saying it. And he didn't say word one about the time he was due for "dinner."

I got out of engineering a few minutes early and went to wait in my quarters. The door chime went off at 0659. And a half, probably, but who's counting? I called out to him to enter.

He marched in, all Starfleet spit and polish, and came to a halt in front of me at attention. "Ensign Paris, reporting for duty, Ma'am!"

What can I say? He can be such a brat, even after thirty days in the slammer.

"Glad to see you're prompt, _Ensign_," I emphasized. "At ease."

He went into the classic, legs apart, hands behind his butt, eyes forward, "at ease" pose. I wanted to slug him. Or hug him. At the moment, it was a toss-up. Then he looked at me, calmly, without flinching. I half expected to see that look he gets on his face when he's waiting to see if I'm angry at him, but it wasn't there. He didn't say anything; he just looked at me as if he wanted to say something really big. And then he said it.

"B'Elanna . . ."

That was all. He had a little break in his voice as he said my name, in that way he has that makes me melt away. I didn't have to worry about whether I was going to slug him anymore. Our arms were around each other so fast - we were squeezing each other so tight - I don't know how either of us could breathe. It felt so good to be in his arms again.

At that moment, any tiny crumb of anger I might have still carried in my heart about him speaking up to Janeway, begging for my life, dissolved. I knew what he'd been feeling during that meeting . . . how this might never have been possible again. It was just like Harry had said, Janeway could have killed him. She would have, if she thought it was necessary to preserve her precious protocols. I might have had to live the rest of my life without him. And he was staring at that same future when I had that slug on my chest. Life without me.

I think, if I had my choice, I'd rather die the way we almost did on the Day of Honor, together, than have to go on alone.

Anyway, when we eventually eased our hold on each other and could speak, Tom said, "I missed you." There was nothing false, no come-on in that, either. His eyes, as blue as the seas he had been so determined to save, were on me again. I could look through them into his heart. As nice as it would have been to have heard him say, "I love you," I'd rather have one, sincere, "I missed you," then a hundred deceitful, "I love you's," from somebody like Steth. The man may not be good about saying the words, but he does say it to me in his own way. Even better - he shows me.

Well. I don't remember if I said anything to him then. If I did, it certainly wasn't anything so deathless it needs to be recorded here. We were still close, arms around each other, just enjoying the moment. And then he said, "Isn't 0700 kind of an odd time to have dinner?"

"Not when you're on Gamma shift, the way both of us are going to be for quite a while." He knew he was going to be working Gamma, but he asked me how come I would. "Because I asked Chakotay, of course. We've got thirty days to make up for, Ensign, and I expect you to work very, very hard, every chance we get. Starting right now. After the first course of dinner. The Breakfast course."

He laughed and cast his eyes over to my table, where I'd left the bagels and coffee. It looked a lot better than the leola root he'd been eating, I'm sure; but he didn't move over to have anything to eat. He just looked at the table, then looked back over at me.

"You waiting for the order to eat?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said again, with a chuckle.

"So ordered, Ensign Paris."

We started to walk over the table, and then I said what I'd been wanting to say to him since I saw him in the corridor, on his way to the brig. "Oh, and Tom . . . by the way . . . welcome to the Maquis."

He looked at me. I saw his face change. His eyes suddenly got misty. I lost it then myself and started to cry. It was the first time I'd really cried since we heard about the Maquis, in the messages from the array. He reached out and wrapped me up close. I burrowed myself into his arms. Maybe we'd both have fallen over if either one of us let go. All I know is we didn't get to the table just then.

I still don't recall quite how it happened. Did he start to tear off my clothes, or did I tear off his, or maybe we just pulled them off any which way? But I found myself on my bed, with him on top of me, kissing like we wanted to inhale each other.

He apologized for it being over so quickly. I told him not to worry about it. We both were satisfied. I think we needed it that way right then - just to dive in and make up for all the time we'd been apart. Feeling alive.

We went over to the table and grabbed something to eat and drink, and then we went to bed again. This time was much slower, more gentle and romantic. I let him lead. After all that had happened, I thought he probably needed to be back in control again. He's too restless a man to be forced into passivity for so long.

After that, we both fell asleep for a while. The first night of Gamma shift is always tough anyway, and I think we were both exhausted emotionally. When we woke up, we made love again (big surprise there) before having our next course of food. Then we talked, a long time, about what he'd been thinking about in the brig, and about what had been happening on the ship while he'd been locked up. Except when Neelix brought him food, that one visit with Harry, and the time the Doc came to fix his cut when the Creleoli attacked us, Tom hadn't spoken to anyone for the entire month. Not one real conversation with any of the security guards, even. When Janeway says, "solitary confinement," she's not kidding.

So, I filled him in on the news. I let him listen to a few of my log entries from the last few months, too, because sometimes I say things here more easily than to his face. It was nice, just being wrapped up in each other's arms, our bodies touching from head to toe for the first time in way too long. Yes, head to toe - him, too. He was curled around me, as if he wanted every square centimeter of his skin to rub against mine.

I asked him about the letter to his father Harry'd told me about, and he said he'd finished it. As soon as we get within range of Federation communications, it will be sent to the admiral automatically. I'm glad. I've got my own reasons for disliking the admiral, of course, but it could be I'm wrong about him. Maybe that garbled letter wasn't saying what I thought it was. Not that it matters to me, really. Tom felt he needed to tell the story to his father, so he did.

I could care less what the admiral thinks. It's Tom who matters.

We spent the whole day talking, eating, sleeping, or making love. He's still in bed now, sleeping - or pretending to sleep. I'm not sure which. Wait - I think I see a blue eye looking at me right now, and a certain mouth twisted into a smirk. I should know better than try to dictate any log entries with him around to eavesdrop. I see you, Mr. Paris. You can't fool me. How long have you been listening this time?

_[Not long.]_

Uh-huh.

_[It's almost time to get up for Gamma shift.]_

Almost.

_[It's good to be at the helm again.]_

Yeah. It feels good to have you there . . .

_[B'Elanna, you okay?]_

Yeah. I'm okay.

_[You sure?]_

Sure. sniff

_[You don't look okay.]_

Now that you're here, I'm okay. I'm better than okay.

_[Come here.]_

rustle

_[Don't cry, B'Elanna. We've still got a little time before we *_have_* to get up.]_

A little.

_[Enough.]_

Uh-hunh. sniff

_[You going to end that log entry of yours someday, or are you going to save this one for posterity, too?]_

So posterity will know how we are, you mean? No, I think they've got a pretty good idea already from the rest of my log. Ensign.

_[That cuts me to the quick, Lieutenant.]_

I think I can make you feel better, Ensign. Like you said, we've got a little time.

_[No time to waste, Lieutenant Torres.]_

You're such a spoiled brat, Tom.

_[I know.]_

Come here, Ensign. I order you make me feel better.

_[Yes, ma'am . . . ]_

rustle

_[Uh . . . B'Elanna?]_

What? Oh . . . yeah . . . that's right.

_End personal log_.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Paramount/Viacom own all. I'm just crawling inside B'Elanna's head and looking around, getting my impressions about what was going on inside it for the last year or so.

**Summary:** More excerpts from the personal logs of Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres. Codas for episodes from "The Killing Game" through "Thirty Days," exploring her feelings about events that took place during the fourth and fifth years of _Voyager_'s journey through the Delta Quadrant. Because the airdate of the episode "Infinite Regress" was shuffled to before "30 Days," the Stardate chronology on the show doesn't conform to the order of airing. Since I included "Infinite Regress," I adjusted the Stardate accordingly.

(This story was originally published on ASC in 1999)


End file.
